Secret Agents Wanted
by Illyria Lives
Summary: Jezzie and her partner Jetpack Guy are the best of the best in the PSA. But even they can't handle rookies, missing agents and a deeper, darker secret that may put all of their lives at risk alone. Who can they trust? Humanized. Now finished with a sequel in progress.
1. The Offer

**Here it is, my rewrite of Chapter 1. Enjoy! Humanization may now commence.**

**Disclamier: I do not own Club Penguin.**

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Agent Tommy John of the PSA hurried along in the night, peering at his phone, debating what warm, dry sanctuary to head to. He was a younger agent, only three years out of the Academy, but all of his training didn't prepare him for the man in white that ran into him and grabbed his arm. Beside him there was a smaller man, his face in shadow of the hat he wore.

"Take him." The smaller one said.

Agent Tommy John was out before he could even scream. And father away, in her ratty hole of an igloo, Jezebel Swan woke up to the sound of a hammer on a nail. She waited for the footsteps to die away before brushing her pet puffle Rocky off of her and getting dressed.

All of her clothes were years old and years smaller, stretched and patched to the limit. Her shoes were more duct tape than actually shoe, and the short sleeves of her sweater were compensated by strings of woven bracelets of her own creation. But lately, selling bracelets wasn't enough to cover her debts, so she shoved her blonde hair under a knitted hat and started out to go get a job.

On her door several eviction notices were posted, the newest one speared by a sturdy nail. She ripped it off, crumpled it, and threw it onto her neighbor's lawn. She caught the afternoon bus to the Ski Village, and fifteen minutes later, she pushed through the door on the Sport Shop, and a small brass bell tinkled faintly. A man in a lab coat and bottle top glasses was standing behind the counter, talking into a dark blue cell phone. When he spotted Jezzie, he flipped it shut and shoved it quickly into his pocket, without so much as a goodbye.

"Hi, I'm here to see if you have any job-" Jezzie started.

"Oh, yes, yes, what's your name and when can you start?" The man asked hastily, flapping his hands at her.

"Um, Jezebel, but everyone calls me Jezzie-"

"Nice to meet you Miss Jezebel. When can you start?" he interrupted. Jezzie had to take an extra calming breath to keep from retorting.

"Actually, it's Jezzie, and I can start immediately." she said. The man nodded quickly, and propelled her behind the counter.

"Here you are. The answer to everything is "Would you like to take a look at our catalog? I'm sure we can find something to fit your individual needs". Got it? Good. Now, I'm Gary, but you can call me Mr. Guy, and I'll be in back." and with that, he was gone into a room marked in big block letters as the manager's office.

Jezzie set down her things and tapped her fingers rhythmically against the faux granite of the counter. Thinking of nothing else to do, she ducked under the counter to retrieve the newest catalog. There was a sound of a door closing, and then some thudding footsteps.

"G, your cell went dead before I could tell you about-" a deep masculine voice said. Straightening, Jezzie flicked the few short hairs of her bangs out of her eyes to see a broad-shoulder guy with a dark pair of sunglasses and a red hoodie standing in front of the counter. He took one ready step back when he saw that Jezzie wasn't whoever he thought he was talking to. "You're not G!" he said with an air of acusation. Jezzie crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry to disappoint you. Mr. Guy is in his office." Jezzie said. He met her cold gaze glare for glare. He turned, and walked into the office without knocking. There was a murmur of speech, and then it was achingly quiet again. After about ten minutes of thumbing through the sports catalog, there was a tinkle of someone coming in through the front door. Jezzie looked up, and into the sneering face of a man easily pushing seven feet tall, decked out in a bright white suit.

"Hello." he said, and his hands wrapped around her throat.

Instantly Jezzie's fight or flight instinct kicked in.

And Jezzie was not the girl to run.

She slammed her arms down onto the man's, and they fell. He backed up, surprise written on his face, and Jezzie catapulted the counter. She landed blow after blow of Cardijustu moves, and he made no move to stop her. Panting, she made the mistake of pausing her assault. As easy as you please, he hefted her up on one shoulder, kicking and screaming.

"Let me go!" Jezzie shrieked. The man sneered, feeling in his pocket for a vibrating phone, and dropped her to sprint out of the room. She fell to the floor, where she hit her head painfully on some sports equipment, and went out cold.

She woke up to someone's voice babbling, and a rhythmical beeping. It soon occurred to her that it was linked to her heart, and that she was lying on a bed in Penguin Hospital. Her best friend Mandy was sitting on a chair next to her bed, talking to a nurse.

"I know, it just seems like this room is a little drafty. You know, I good pair of curtains and some access lighting would really-" she was talking at her usual speed- fast.

"Mandy? What happened?" Jezzie asked. Her throat felt like sandpaper, her mouth like she was chewing a handkerchief.

"I can answer that." a doctor said, waltzing over. Mandy straightened and checked her breath. Jezzie had just enough energy to roll her eyes.

"You sustained a slight laceration to your head." he said, pulling out a mirror to show her the huge white bandage wrapped around her head. "nothing too serious, you can go home in a few minutes, if you like." Jezzie couldn't wait to go home. But she had to clear one thing first.

"I was attacked. By this huge guy in white." she said. The doctor smiled, and Jezzie was reminded of how her parents smiled when she told them that she had visited France over the weekend. She was five years old. He assured her that it would be looked into, and Jezzie had to grumble her approval.

She got home later than she expected, a case of leftover pizza in one hand. She picked the new lock and let her self in, not bothering to turn on the light; the electric company hadn't allowed her light for months. Instead she struck a match and lit a few candles, throwing shadows into the dusty corners of her home.

Her black puffle Rockafellow crept up to her and rubbed against her leg. Jezzie poured some puffle-Os into his bowl and poured herself some milk. She took a sip, and poured the rest of it down the rusted drain, it falling out in thin clumps. She gave herself a shake and sat down at her work table, which was strewed with beads and pieces of string, all that was left of her previous job.

She sighed, and rested her head in her hands. Through weary eyes, she looked around her at her home.

There was a small, well-worn couch in one corner that, coupled with a quilt older than her mother, made a bed. There was a simple kitchen and a table, and Rockafellow's dirty white puffle bed. The two small windows were covered in tape to keep the cracks from letting in wind or water, a usefulness that unfortunately her roof didn't have. There was a knock on her spindly door. Jezzie let them knock, knowing just how well what a tax collector would say to her if she opened it. They only knocked harder and faster. Jezzie sighed and dragged herself to the door. When she opened it, a middle-aged man in a suit opened his mouth to speak, dark eyes hidden under silvery hair and a fedora.

Jezzie shut the door.

The knocking started again, sounding like a hammer was being used. Jezzie yanked the door open, and huffed her bangs out of her face. The man was sweating slightly, and kept shooting glances behind him, into the darkness.

"Whaddya want?" Jezzie demanded. "Besides breaking my door?"

"I am Agent Robinson of the PSA." the man said. "And I have an offer to make you, Jezebel Swan." he said, shifting his weight to look inside her house. Completely aware that he expected her to invite him in, Jezzie leaned against the doorframe.

"It's Jezzie, and I don't believe in those old stories about secret agents." she said.

"What if you became one of those agents? Would you believe in them then?" he asked. Jezzie stepped back and was about to shut the door. "There would be money!" Robinson blurted, looking nervous of being left alone outside. Jezzie stepped back onto her porch.

"I'm listening." She said wanly.

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**So, as you can see, I kept a bit of the original text, but added a bit more to add foreshadowing and conformity and whatnot...**

**Review :)**


	2. No Sacrifices

**Again, the second rewritten chapter. Enjoy!**

**I do not own Club Penguin... yet :)**

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"Two hundred and fifty gold coins a month is the payment for being an active agent." Robinson explained quickly. Jezzie sucked in the air through her teeth and considered for a half second. 250 gold coins could get her lights back on and pay off the third mortgage. It could get her shoes that were more material than duct tape, and it could get her clothes with the original elbows still intact.

"Okay, I'll do it." she said. Robinson looked relieved, until the girl got in his face, dark brown eyes serious and threatening. "But if this is just some sick joke, I swear you won't be laughing for long." she whispered. One step back and the hard wood of the door was all that Robinson could see.

Jezzie was pacing, seriously considering her sanity, when the door rattled the intent of another caller. She yanked it open.

"I already said yes, so why don't you-" she started, until she noticed that she was talking to a man's white-clad chest, and that Robinson was collapsed on the ground behind him, his fedora dented and bloodstained. Tilting her head up, she met the eyes of the man from the store.

"Hello, my sweet little agent. Time to collect." he said, a sadistic smile showing off huge teeth. Jezzie opened her mouth to scream, but she blacked out. The punch had been to the perfect spot- Jezzie hadn't even felt it. When she woke up, she was in a large cage, an unconscious Robinson next to her. It looked like she was in a cave of some kind, rustic torches on the walls, and the man in white was watching her. She crawled to her feet, and he smiled a toothy smile at her.

"Who are you?" Jezzie asked, trying to stop herself from using profane language.

"I am Herbert P. Bear, esquire." he announced, and stopped, supposedly for applause.

"I'm sorry." Jezzie said, shaking her head sadly. Herbert's smile fell like she had slapped it off, and she almost wanted to. "Why did you capture me? And knock me out? Twice?" She asked.

"Because you're an agent. And I only knocked you out once. The first time you did it on your own." he pointed out. Jezzie crossed her arms over her chest and glared him down.

"I'm not an agent. At least I wasn't when you attacked me in the Sport Shop." she retaliated. Robinson was stirring, and was blinking confusedly around his prison.

Herbert shrugged, and hit a button. The ground beneath the cage opened up to reveal a long drop with classical spikes lining the bottom. "Aw well, you'll make a good example of my hate anyway. Goodbye, agent and not-yet-an-agent." he said, and a phone on a low table nearby gave off a sharp beep. Pulling a face, Herbert went to it and pressed a button. "Look, Penguin, I'm a little busy here." He said.

"You were not ordered to kill-"a voice on the other end shouted, broken off when Herbert shouted that he couldn't hear them because he was going into a tunnel. With a clack he hung up and waltzed down a hallway, probably to an exit. With a hideous creek, the cage fell into the hole.

It felt like Jezzie had swallowed her stomach. She was suspended halfway between the floor of the cage and the roof. Robinson was beside her, his suit dirty and crinkled. What to do? She almost shrieked to herself. Without any obvious exit on the cage, Jezzie began throwing her weight against some of the bars. They creaked, and probably left her with a few new bruises. One more rush, and she was slipping through, Robinson not far behind. With a mighty crash and a wide radius of debris, the cage shattered on the initial spikes, while Jezzie and Robinson were thrown apart. Jezzie heard, rather than felt, one of her ribs crack as she collided with a wall, and then the cold ground was pressuring her face. She gasped, the pain of her rib finally catching up to her. She coughed several times, and forced herself to her knees, and then her feet. Stumbling over to the opposite wall, she saw Robinson, his leg bent at an unnatural angle.

"Go… go on… without me…" he said, and it seemed a miracle that he didn't faint. Jezzie bent down, cursed as her rib protested, and supported Robinson as she got him on his feet.

"No way. No heroics, no sacrifices when you're working with me." she grunted, the man much heavier that she thought. She pulled him down a few more tunnels, and blacked out twice on the stairs. When the bright light of day was burning into her eye sockets, she finally fell into the cold snow.

"My… phone…" Robinson gasped, pulling a dark blue cell from his pocket. He pressed a button and finally allowed himself to fall into unconsciousness. Jezzie followed suit, and her black dreams were filled with the murmurings of people talking and the throb of helicopter blades. She woke up in a hospital bed, and two people were swimming in and out of focus.

"Miss Swan? Are you feeling alright?" the smaller of the two asked her. Jezzie lifted a hand.

"Give me sec." she said, and she heard the taller man scoff. When her eyes had cleared, she lowered her hand and nodded. The pair was none other than Mr. Guy and the hoodie boy. Neither were welcome in Jezzie's book. "unless you're here to offer worker's compensation, get out." she growled.

"No, I'm not. I am Agent G, and this is Jet Pack Guy." he said, gesturing first to himself and then to the boy. Jezzie coughed and gasped as pain racked her ribs.

"Then why are you here?" Jezzie rasped.

"You showed great courage today, and we would like to have you on as an Agent." G said. Jezzie raised an eyebrow.

"Do I still get paid?"

"Of course."

"Then I guess I'm in." Jezzie allowed. G looked pleased, and Jet Pack Guy looked like he had just dropped his ice cream cone.

Almost one week later, Jezzie was carrying her small box of possessions into her "quarters". A single room, Jezzie wasn't very impressed. Rockafellow frowned at the corner where she shoved his bed, but didn't verbally complain. Her door flew open, and G trooped in.

"Don't you people ever knock?" Jezzie asked when her heart stopped pounding wildly.

"That's not the point. You are assigned to squad Delta." he informed her.

"Which means…?" Jezzie asked slowly. G looked uncomfortable.

"It means that you and Jet Pack Guy are partners." he said quickly, holding up his hands protectively in front of his face. Jezzie just stood there, arms crossed, eyebrow raised.

"Then what's my first mission?" she asked, excited despite herself. G handed her a stack of papers.

"Read up, and meet Guy in the Sport Shop." G instructed.

Jezzie was surprised to find that she couldn't wait.

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	3. Partners

**Blah blah blah rewrite blah disclaimer Club Penguin blah...**

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It took Jezzie a while to find her way through the PSA's labyrinth of a headquarters. There were briefing rooms, training rooms, a huge school called the Academy, and hundreds of agent dorms. Jezzie walked down the hallways, crowded with people she had seen from around the island. She didn't know them by name, but she had definitely seen them before. One was even wearing one of her bracelets. She thumbed through the stack of papers as she found her way into the Sports Shop. When she got there, she was thoroughly disgusted, and she made a point of telling Jet Pack Guy so on their way to Aunt Arctic's igloo.

"I mean, this is the kinda job for a little kid with a stack of "Lost. Please find" posters." she said to the boy next to her. In response, he started walking faster. Jezzie talked more to fill the uncomfortable silence. "Why can't Aunt Arctic do this herself? What does she need us for?" she asked.

"She is one of the few people who know about the PSA, and she often donates money to our organization." Jet Pack Guy growled. Jezzie scoffed.

"So, it all comes down to money, doesn't it?" Jet Pack Guy started jogging.

"Yeah, like how you are only in this for the money." he spat at her. Sprinting, Jezzie got in front of him and held up a hand to make him stop.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Cool your jetpack, guy." she said, hoping to get a smile out of him for her clever way of twisting his name. Instead, he glared at her like she was something he'd go out of his way to avoid stepping in. "What's wrong with me liking a nice paycheck at the end of the month?" she asked.

"How about that most of the other agents are in it because they love Club Penguin and want to keep it safe, and your only in it for money?" he said. Jezzie crossed her arms.

"Yeah, keeping it safe from rampaging puffles." she muttered. Jet Pack Guy shouldered past her and walked into a small, neat igloo with flowers growing out front. Sighing with frustration, Jezzie wished that she had hit G earlier. She walked into the igloo, so different from the one she left behind. Everything seemed new, and there was not one speck of dust anywhere. A middle-aged woman with cat's eyes glasses was there, wringing her hands over an old typewriter.

"Aunt Arctic, we are from the PSA." he said, and she brightened at once. "I am Agent Jetpack Guy, and this is my partner-"

"And the use of the word partner is incredibly loose." Jezzie growled warningly, noting to demand a partner change in the near future. Jetpack Guy had absolutely no heart in his broad chest, and it disgusted her.

"And this is my partner, Agent…" he trailed off, and looked at Jezzie for her code name.

"Agent Jay, and it is a pleasure to meet you." Jezzie said crisply. Jetpack guy rolled his eyes. His respect for his new partner was incredibly low, considering that he had barely spoken a full sentence to her before today. He questioned Aunt Arctic without further assistance from her. To his surprise, she didn't care, combing her hair forward into her face with her phone comb. When they got outside after questioning the older reporter, she cut through it with her pair of phone scissors, resulting in a more or less straight pair of bangs that choppily covered her eyebrows.

"So, partner, if you were a puffle, where would you go?" she asked him, skipping like a little girl down the icy sidewalk. He noted that her shoes were covered in ragged duct tape. Her sweater had patches on the elbows, and the cuffs were a few inches too short, her exposed wrists covered in homemade bracelets. There were holes on the knees of her jeans, and the style was from about seven years ago.

"Back to my home." he said darkly.

"I mean if you were a regular puffle. You know, nice, bright, friendly…" she said, hinting none too subtly at his stoicism. If he noticed, he never let on. "We should go to the pet shop." she announced, and turned right at the fork. Jetpack Guy looked like he would like to disagree, but followed anyway.

"Why would you want the money anyway?" He asked, breaking the thick silence and scattering the pieces to the wind. "Don't you sell those bracelets?"

"I do, but bracelets don't get me nine thousand and five hundred coins, do they?" She said, stretching her legs to go faster. Jetpack guy was so surprised he stopped for a moment. He had to jog to catch up to her once he got control of his legs again.

"Nine thousand and five hundred coins?" he gasped down at his partner. "How does someone owe that much to anybody?" he asked, and behind his sunglasses his eyes were popping out of his head.

"My parents had some debts, and the interest rate was high…" she shrugged it off like it was no big deal.

There was a second of silence as Jetpack Guy mulled this over.

"Had?" he whispered. Nothing registered on Jezzie's face as she walked into the Pet Shop. She could murder herself for mentioning her parents at all. Now the only thing she had with her partner was pity. She hated being pitied. Grinding her teeth, she walked over to the puffle enclosure. All colors, save the two black ones, rushed up to her and squeaked to get her attention. Jezzie had always had a soft spot for the loner species, and reached out her hand to them, and she noticed a scrap of paper tucked in one corner. She pulled it out, and read it_. I own fifty-one pairs of socks_. Weird. Jetpack Guy was arguing with the shop owner, and muttered something that Jezzie could only guess wasn't polite.

"He says that he hasn't had time to look for two unattended puffles." He muttered, coming up beside her and looking into the pen. "He says he's too worried about his friend. Says he's stuck on the Ice Berg."

Jezzie rolled her brown eyes. "Let me guess what your gonna say next…"

"We need to go help him."

"You didn't let me guess." She pouted. "And it was the right answer too."

Five minutes of thick silence and jogging later, they were standing on the icy surface of the Ice Berg. The agents surveyed the large crescent moon shape piece missing from the Berg. About fifty or so yards away, a group of people were waving their arms and yelling. They took, careful, measured steps forward to survey the damage.

"So, any ideas in that head of yours?" Jezzie asked him. He nodded slowly, and began pacing.

"We would need a rescue squad, some ropes, maybe a boat or helicopter…" he reeled off, his mind whirling.

And then, with a crack and a splash, he was gone.

Jezzie fought the urge to smile.

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	4. Problem Solving

**Ya'll know the drill by now. And also, I am not Disney. Disney owns Club Penguin. Conclusion: I do not own club Penguin.**

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There was a large splash and Jetpack Guy fell through the ice and into the water. Jezzie had to grin and stepped forward to help him out when he resurfaced.

Big mistake.

Even though she was much smaller than Jetpack she plummeted downward anyway, ice scraping her sides as she slipped under

The water was like one thousand needles jutting into her. As warm as the water by the Cove was, this far out at sea it was just above freezing, one degree above turning solid. She forced open her eyes, and saw Jetpack Guy struggling to rise to the surface, his red jacket full of water. Kicking her way towards him, Jezzie felt her duct tape falling off her shoes, leaving her with a pair of thin socks and the plastic soles. She forced the jacket off, revealing a yellow and black device strung under it. She unclipped the belt holding it to his shoulders and pulled him to the surface. When her head broke, she gasped gratefully and pulled herself out of the drink, dragging Jetpack Guy behind her. Gasping, water was streaming from his black hair. He had lost his sunglasses, and was now wearing only a dark grey T-shirt. She had lost some of her bracelets and her shoes. The crowd of stranded people now sent over loud guffaws and chunks of taunting sentences.

"Well… _that _was refreshing." Jezzie panted, wringing out her hair. Jetpack Guy combed his fingers through his hair, leaving it in dark spikes.

"Yeah, that's the word. _Refreshing._" he said, and looked at Jezzie, who was looking at him. His eyes were green. A really, deep, dark green. Wow. Quickly she drop-kicked her unborn compliments away, and stood. He followed suit.

"What now?" Jezzie asked him, flinging her arms up, and sending water droplets everywhere.

"Now we go get supplies from G, and we help." he said, and started walking. He called over his shoulder: "And by the way, you owe me a new jetpack." Struggling to keep on her feet with only socks, Jezzie followed, muttering to herself. She was shivering like crazy when they got to the Shop, and she couldn't feel her feet.

"G!" she yelled, and heard a crash and a cry in the manager's office.

"Yes, how can I help you?" he asked as he hurried in.

"We need some supplies to rescue some people stranded on a drifting piece of the Ice Berg." She said.

"I have no idea what you are talking about." he said simply, crossing his arms. Jetpack Guy slammed his hands onto the counter angrily.

"G, it's us, and don't I don't have time for games." he growled. His hair was growing stiff with sea salt, forming into messy spikes.

"If you don't have time for a game, then you must have time for a question." he said mysteriously. "how many pairs of socks do I own?" he asked, and leaned back.

"Why in the name of Mod would I know that?" Jetpack Guy sputtered angrily.

"Fifty-one." Jezzie whispered to herself.

"What?" Jetpack Guy turned on her.

"You own fifty-one pairs of socks!" Jezzie said triumphantly. Jetpack Guy looked at her like she was mad. G smiled and pressed a button. A section of wall opened up, and a large rope with a grappling hook and a tube launcher appeared. Jetpack Guy claimed the launcher, and Jezzie threw the rope over her shoulder. G administered a new pair of shoes and two pairs of sunglasses for the pair. Jetpack Guy retrieved his extra coat and a brand new jetpack, and Jezzie a new sweater. They got back to the ice berg, and all passengers were rescued. One, a tall beanpole of a boy with nervous gray eyes, thanked them over and over again.

"Now I can go back to my telescope. I hope that it wasn't damaged while I was gone." he said, trying not to make it seem to obvious that he was staring at Jezzie. Jetpack guy turned to go, but Jezzie caught the boy's arm.

"You have a telescope?" she asked, blinking her big brown eyes slowly. "That's soooo cool." she drawled, and the boy blushed.

"Well, you know…" he said, flipping his hair and trying to look cool. "just some nuts and bolts… only took me two days to make."

Jezzie widened her eyes. "You mean, you made it all by yourself? Wow, I could never have done that. It must be pretty nice, huh?" she purred, and Jetpack Guy steamed for some unknown reason.

"Yeah, would you like to take a look? You could see the whole island from where I have it set up." he said, and Jezzie took his arm and began walking briskly.

"Let's go, not a moment to lose." she said, back to her normal, in-a-hurry self. Suddenly understanding, Jetpack Guy smiled to himself and followed Jezzie and her love-struck prisoner.

He watched with amusement on the Ski Hill while the nerd tried to flirt, while Jezzie was only interested in scanning the island for two puffles. With a cry, she pointed to the tallest mountain.

"Let's go." she urged, and soon they were running off, the boy with the telescope yelling for Jezzie to call him.

When they reached the Tallest Mountain, Jetpack guy expertly hooked the rope on a ledge, and they climbed up it quickly. The purple puffle was quickly caught by Jetpack Guy, while Jezzie cornered the green one.

"Come on, nice puffle, good puffle…" she crooned.. She jumped forward, but the puffle evaded her.

She tumbled over the edge.

She screamed.

The freezing air was whistling in her ears, and whipping her hair. Her own screams were all that she could hear, besides the beating of her heart. Suddenly, the roaring of a motor was in her ears, and something hard and strong was wrapped around her middle. With a shriek, she clung to Jetpack Guy, who had jumped into the abyss after her, his hidden jetpack flaring to life. He shifted her so that she was lounging in his arms. He flew them back to the curious puffles and set Jezzie down in the snow.

"Breathe! Breathe, Jezzie!" he said, and Jezzie obeyed, taking several shaky breaths. She was shaking, her arms wrapped around her knees. "Jezzie, are you okay?" he asked her, worried that maybe she was in shock.

She swallowed several times. "I think I'm in love with your jetpack right now." she whispered. He nodded seriously.

"Well, we can arrange a date between you two later." he said. Jezzie attempted a smile. He looked over her shoulder at the two puffles.

"We should get them back." he said. Jezzie got to her feet, and rubbed her hands together briskly.

"Right."

"Stay away from the edge." he joked with a solemn face. In response, Jezzie punched his arm.

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Jezzie and Jetpack Guy stood in front of G, heads bowed. Jezzie was having flashbacks of being given a lecture by her parents, while Jetpack Guy's mind was begging him to protest, though he remained silent.

"Frankly, your teamwork just didn't cut it today." G said darkly.

"But we finished the mission." Jezzie said quietly. Jetpack Guy echoed her comment, but it came out as a mumble.

"Yeah, by luck! And luck doesn't last!" G said. He glared them down for a moment, and sighed. "look, you two will attend the training session tomorrow. Get some rest." he let them go.

"That was a relief." Jezzie sighed when they were down the hall. In a response, Jetpack Guy walked into his room and shut the door in her face. Shaking her head in wonder, Jezzie trooped to her room, and slept through the night, Rockafellow curled up beside her.

The next morning Jetpack Guy opened the door to Jezzie's room, and almost got attacked by a snarling black puffle.

"Whoa, Rocky. He's okay." Jezzie crooned to him, and slowly the puffle backed up. Jezzie was wearing a pair of paint-splattered sweats and a tight shirt with the name of a popular band imprinted on the front. Her new shoes were laced up, and her wispy hair had been wrestled into a ponytail. "Hey." she greeted her partner, once again in a red sweatshirt.

"Hey," he grunted. "Ready for training?"

"Yep." Jezzie said, bouncing from toe to toe. He raised his eyebrows, and Jezzie was suddenly nervous of her first training session.

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	5. Training

Sorry it be so long, I am simply wracked with guilt concerning my Couchpotato-itus.

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Jezzie had butterflies on her stomach for the first time in three and a half years as she walked down the hallway with Jetpack Guy. She was usually ready for anything and never nervous- low standards had a habit of doing that to you after a few years. Jetpack Guy glanced down at her from time to time, his eyes hidden behind an incredibly dark pair of sunglasses once more.

When they reached the end of the way, her pushed open a set of double doors to show a large room that looked like an over equipped school gym. Jezzie snorted.

"I seriously went through four years of ditching PE to end up here?" she whispered. A tall girl with a tight black pixie cut swaggered up to her.

"You're the newbie, right?" she asked in a high, nasal voice. It was clear from the way she held her shoulders that she wasn't impressed.

"Sure." Jezzie shrugged, shouldering past the girl, who gave a shocked and angry gasp at such disrespect. Jezzie's butterflies were coming in waves now. They switched on when she caught people staring at her, but left when she caught sight of the Agent in charge.

"Robinson." she sighed happily. The older man saw her, and winked, pointing to his leg, free of any casts. She flashed him a thumbs-up before she felt the presence of Jetpack Guy behind her.

"How are you with sports?" he asked her flatly. Didn't this guy have any emotion?

"I'm good enough." she allowed. The girl was back again, arms crossed.

"Then run the course if you're so good." she challenged.

"M, really? The course? Look, I admit J is good, but…" Jetpack guy trailed off as he saw that Jezzie was not listening, to busy climbing a rope hand over hand. When she reached the top, she hung upside-down, her legs gripping the rope and her fingers outstretched. She hung like that while most of the gym watched breathlessly. Jezzie's fingers finally found their mark, and volleyball fell down into the arms of the waiting academy brat, a young child who was raised as a spy. While the child laughed happily, Jezzie shimmied down the rope and landed wit her feet placed apart.

"Wow." Jetpack Guy said, as Robinson instructed her to run some laps. She was fast, and was soon back in front of her gawking partner. She chuckled, and none to gently pushed his lower jaw back into place.

"Keep that up, and birds could nest." She giggled, and skipped into a large net of ropes that were ducking and twisting at different speeds and heights. A few back handsprings, some splits, and a front flip got her through.

"Oo iz zat?" a French accented boy asked. Jetpack shook his head in wonder.

"I'm pretty sure I don't know anymore." Everyone covered their ears as the loudspeaker blared into life. G's voice, twisting and bucking through static, called for Squad Delta to report to the briefing room.

* * *

"Sup, G." Jezzie greeted the gadget man as she followed her stoic partner into the briefing room. The bespectacled man was no where to be seen.

"G?" Jetpack asked, shutting the door.

"Shh!" G shushed them, jumping up from behind his desk. Jezzie jumped, knocking over a cup of cold coffee. Jetpack stuck out both of his arms, Jezzie falling into his right, and the cup falling into his left without spilling a drop. He looked smug as Jezzie huffed and shifted out of his hold. To make her point, she also "accidentally" knocked over the cup.

"What was that for?" his deep voice was thick with contempt. G was waving his arms frantically.

"No time for that, this is very important, and very secret." G was gesturing wildly, and ripped a large sheet off of a slapdash looking sleigh.

"Please don't say what I think you're about to say." Jessie pleaded.

"I need you two to go and try out my new experimental sled."

"But I said please." Jessie pouted. G wasn't listening.

"Now, I need you to take this to Ski Mountain and run it down the test course." Jetpack Guy agreed immediately, while Jezzie groaned and complained. Her complaints fell on purposefully deaf ears.

* * *

"Get on." Jetpack ordered, already sitting on the sled.

"Now way in Mod am I getting on that thing." Jezzie stood, hugging herself. Jetpack Guy growled, and she got on it front of him, holding the wheel.

A moment of silence.

"What do you think you're doing?" Jezzie flicked her hair back into Guy's mouth haughtily.

"If you want me to risk my butt, my butt sits up front." She said, and pushed off before he could protest.


	6. Surviving

Ah, the awkwardness of trapping two opposites together in the wilderness. Hehehe, I am so evil . Oh, and Alexia, how do you reply so fast? Do you have your computer ding every time I put up a new chapter or what?

Jezzie really had no idea when she lost control of the sled. One moment she was gripping the wheel, wondering whether Jetpack was trying to strangle her waist with his beefy arms or not, and the next, both runners were gone, and the sled was snowballing down a hill. Jezzie released the wheel, and Jetpack ignited his hidden pack. They were in the air for a few moments, until a flying piece of debris hit Guy in the back of the head. He cried out, and they lost some altitude. Jezzie was slipping, but she could just make out a deep snow bank just over a rise. Jetpack was groaning, and Jezzie could feel his grip on her waist loosening. Again, she wondered if it was on purpose. Stretching and straining, she twisted her shoulder, and plucked at the hidden shoulder strap. Just as she managed to get a grip on it, his grip finally went slack, and Jezzie was left dangling. She screamed, and the strap snapped. Now clinging desperately to his red sweatshirt, they swerved right, and Jezzie was crushed into a pine tree. Something in her arm snapped, and both she and the Jetpack fell into a deep white pile of icy snow. Jezzie somehow got on her knees, and saw a soaking wet Guy rubbing his head with a dazed look on his face. His sunglasses were missing a lens, and his back was spitting out black smoke.

"J?" he asked, crawling over to her. "What happened?"

"You got hit on the head." She grunted. She couldn't move her right arm, and it felt strangely numb.

"No kidding." He grunted, discarding his glasses. He shook his shoulders, and his dented jetpack fell onto the ground, where it made a grim crunching noise and promptly burst into flames. The pair stared at it for a moment. Jezzie nodded to herself.

"Think it's an omen?"

"No." Jetpack stood, and fell down again, gasping and gripping his right leg.

"What? What?" Jezzie was by his side in an instant, arm dangling. Guy was hissing through his teeth, nasty words that Jezzie was glad not to hear.

"It's my leg. Think it's twisted or something." His green eyes were screwed shut.

"Let me see." For once when speaking to him, Jezzie's voice was not thick with sarcasm and annoyance. She twitched her shoulder, and nothing happened.

"What happened to your arm?" Jetpack asked as Jezzie began to scoop up snow with her left arm, her right still hanging by her side. Jezzie remained silent, getting to her feet after numbing Jetpack's leg with clean white snow. She helped him up, and had him sit down on a rock a few yards away.

"Your leg is pretty bad, I can't tell if it's broken or not." She commented. Jetpack grabbed her uninjured shoulder and made her brown eyes stare into his bright greens.

"What. Happened. To your. Arm?" he demanded slowly, like he was speaking to someone with an incredibly low I.Q. Jezzie's heart-shaped face contorted into a scowl, and she gripped the one hand she could move into a fist.

"I. Don't. KNOW! Now, shut up and let me fix you!" She could have gotten the same message across by slapping him in his serious face, but settled on screaming her face into a bright red flush. Jetpack was taken aback. All of the girls at the PSA were more level headed and… awkward around him than her. Jezzie breathed deeply several times, and when her face color was back to the original tan, she opened them.

"You have a burn on your back from the jetpack. Take off your sweatshirt." He did as he was told, and Jezzie tried not to stare as his undershirt came off, most of it burned away. He sure wasn't hiding a gamer's gut under that jacket, she thought to herself as she began packing snow onto the burn on his lower back. He jerked away a few times, but finally sighed happily as the pain throbbed away.

"About your arm." Jetpack twisted around to face her, and touched her right arm lightly.

"Ou-ch!" she cried, surging away. Guy's mind was moving quickly, and he was holding Jezzie's arms in his wide hands in a moment.

"Count to five." He ordered, gripping her arms tightly. She looked skeptical, but began to do so slowly. When she reached three, Jetpack jerked his arms together, and sent Jezzie's right arm back into its socket. Jezzie screamed, and tears froze on her cheeks. Sobbing, she shook, cradling her arm.

"Sorry. Had to be done." Jetpack grunted, his face not betraying his guilt at having caused her pain. Jezzie grumbled something crossly, and wiped the tears from her cheeks. She sniffed loudly, and looked around.

"Now that hurt Jezzie time is over, where do you think we are?"

Jetpack looked around, and rubbed his hand through his hair. "I… I'm not totally sure. Phone?" he had pulled out what was left of his phone, which was not much. Jezzie reached into her pocket for hers, but only came up with a palm full of lint.

"Nope." She stood up and began walking around, picking apart the remaining pieces of experimental sled. She came up with one ski runner and a thick book on Outdoor Survival. If she didn't know better, she would have thought that G had planned for them to crash. A few more minutes of rummaging and she had a long piece of twine.

"Get up." She said to Guy, and strapped everything to her back.

"If you haven't noticed, I can't do that right now." He replied scathingly. Jezzie glared.

"Lean on me, if you have to. We need to find shelter." Jetpack complied, and Jezzie half dragged, half carried him through the woods, looking for someplace safe to rest and take stock. She found it in the form of a deep rock cave. She cleared the brush that blocked the entrance and ducked inside. Once she found the far wall, she let Jetpack slump to the ground. His lips were pressed tightly together, and his face had paled, betraying his inner pain.

"So, now that we're here… what are we supposed to do?!" he snapped, gingerly massaging his injured leg. Jezzie pulled out the Survival Guide.

"According to this, we should build a fire." Jezzie read.

"Got any matches?"

"No…"

"Dang. Next step?"

"We use that fire to boil water safe to drink… use that fire to signal for help… we need a fire." Jezzie looked up to find Jetpack lounging with his hands behind his head. He had a goofy grin plastered on his face. Jezzie slammed the book shut. "Is this all some sick joke to you, Jet-boy?"

He laughed. "No, but I think I just found your matches." Jezzie tilted her head to the side and was tackled by a flying ball of hyperactive puffle.

"Rocky!" she squealed happily as her black puffle nuzzled her. Jetpack laughed, and Rocky shut him up with a growl. Jezzie stood, and pointed a finger at her partner.

"You, stay. Rockafellow, make him stay." She walked outside, leaving Rocky to guard the entrance from the wounded agent. She came back a few minutes later with an armful of wood, which she dumped in a pile. After some persuasion, Rocky lit up, and made the wood burst into flame. The smoke coiled up to the roof and snaked its way outside, pouring into the sky.

They stared at it for a long while, deep in thought. After what felt like an hour but was actually more like five minutes before Jetpack tried to get up and pace.

"Stop it." Jezzie said, but he didn't listen, limping in a line, turning, cursing as he landed wrong on his leg, and turning. After a while, he sat back down and began reading through the pocket agent's handbook that he kept in his back pocket. Jezzie shook her head in wonder.

"Why are you so obsessed with being the best agent ever?" she snorted, and without looking up, he answered.

"I know you've heard the rumors about me, so why don't you answer?"

Jezzie blushed, knowing perfectly well that she had listened intently in the training room to the girls talking about him, and how he was destined to be the best agent ever, since his parents had been.

"I… heard that your parents were great." She offered up weakly. It was the only gossip that wasn't about how "yummilicious" he was. He nodded, and looked at her.

"Yeah. They were. Until a mission went wrong and they disappeared, right?"

"No. I… didn't know that." Jezzie whispered. Jetpack nodded slowly.

"Well, they did. After a few months they were assumed dead. G adopted me, and I joined up then, for them."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

It was dark outside, and the fire couldn't keep the cold away. Jezzie shivered, and almost stuck her fingers and toes in the fire.

"What about your parents?" he asked eventually.

"Huh?"

"What happened to your parents?"

"They were on a cruise for their anniversary. The ship had a problem in the engine room, and they drowned." Feeling incredibly awkward, Jetpack patted her heavily on the shoulder. Rocky snuggled up against her legs and blinked his big black eyes at her. A few more hours passed, and Jezzie felt as though she was about to fall asleep. But before she did, she had one last question…

"Jetpack, how old were you?" she asked drowsily.

"Seven." He whispered. A moment of silence.

"Six." Jezzie yawned.

"What?" he shifted to look at her. She was leaning against the wall, eyes closed.

"I was six when my parents died." She said, and her breathing grew even. But then suddenly, she spoke.

"Is Jetpack really your first name?" Jetpack blinked several times at the randomness of the question.

"Um… no. My name was Justin when I was born." What did he just say?! Did he just really tell her his name? Her?! No one other than G knew his name. He looked at his partner, now fully asleep, and let his panic pass.

Maybe she wasn't that bad after all…


	7. Coins

After a long reprise, I give you new chapters…. Oh, and I do not own club penguin, Jetpack Guy, G, PSA, but I do own Memory, Jezzie and nothing else….

Jetpack blinked his eyes open, and then closed them again in embarrassment. Somehow, while asleep, he had managed to put his arm around her. Gack! He wriggled away furiously, and then pushed himself up into a sitting position. Was it his imagination, or was there someone outside, calling their names? No, it was true! True!

"Jay, get up." He shook her shoulder furiously, and she lashed out with one of her arms. "Ow! I think you broke my nose!" Jezzie opened he eyes, and shook her head to clear it of dreams of being awarded the most awesome person on Club Penguin award.

"Wha… what's going on?" she slurred, and Jetpack shakily stood up. Judging by the bulge in his pants leg, his hurt leg was swelling.

"An agent's here! Come on!" They ran (or, in Justin's case, hobbled quickly) outside, where a wiry young man in a blue team jersey and a pair of sunglasses was walking around, calling out their names. His blonde hair was in precarious spikes, and his cell phone had been customized with black flame stickers. When he was the bedraggled two, he broke into a wide smile.

"Jetpack Guy! Agent Jay! I am so glad to see you! Come, I have a helicopter waiting." He had a hint of a French accent. Delta squad gratefully followed him to it, where a waiting doctor gave Jetpack a shot to bring down the swelling. Rockafellow growled at the French boy until Jezzie forcefully pulled him back. When they got to headquarters, Jezzie was sent to G's office while Jetpack went to the hospital.

"Agent, it is so good to see you." G greeted her. "I'm sorry, but Jetpack Guy will have to get a week of bed rest before he can join you in the field again, so for the moment, you're going to be helping in the training of a noob."

Jezzie sat down in the only chair in the room. "You seriously take me out of the wilderness after a sled crash to train a… noob?" she asked, and G had the grace to look uncomfortable.

"Well… you won't be alone. Memory!" G called, and from the shadows came the French boy from the helicopter, now with an iPod earbuds halfway in, the right one in, the left one dangling.

"Bonjour." He said, and Jezzie nodded to him.

"Now, we had Rookie on Shop Watch, but he ran into a few problems."

"Like?" Jezzie prompted.

"Like all of the coins in the Gift Shop disappeared right from under his nose. You two are going to go help him." Jezzie shook her head in wonder. Only someone who chose to be called Rookie could lose a whole safe full of coins.

"Sounds like an easy A." she said, and stood, slipping on yet another new pair of sunglasses. "Lets go, Memory." He followed her outside.

"Easy A? What is the meaning of this phrase?" he asked her in his slightly adorable accent.

"It just means something incredibly easy."

"Oh. Right."

A few minutes later they got to the Gift Shop. They entered, and found a little kid, maybe ten or eleven years old standing stiffly in front of the huge open vault. His sunglasses were pointed and edged in red plastic, and on his head was a ridicules hat, the kind with colorful stripes and a pinwheel that moved when the wind blew. Jezzie nodded to him warmly when she was close enough to see the nervous expression on his face.

"Hiya, kid. I'm Agent Jay, and this is Agent Memory. What seems to be…?"

"WAH!" he howled in despair. "I'm never going to be a good agent! I was just standing here, and suddenly there's nothing inside! WAAAAHH!"

"… The problem?" Jezzie finished, and took off her sunglasses, tucking them into one of her pockets. "Come on, kid, don't worry, we're here to help you out. Now, did you see anything suspicious happen before the coins disappeared?"

Rookie sniffed loudly, and shook his head, making the spinner atop his hat go crazy. Memory stepped up.

"And what of the vault? Has it been tampered with at all?" he asked.

"Nuh-uh." Rookie shook his head again. "This vault is as solid as a rock, well, if rocks were made of metal…" to make his point, the kid slammed the vault shut and spun the handle to lock it. The heavy clang of the tumblers reengaging echoed slightly.

"Um… Rookie?" Jezzie ventured while Memory massaged his temples.

"Yeah?"

"Could you open the door for me? I'd like to take a look around."

"Sure." He said cheerily, and pulled on the handle a few times before whimpering. Jezzie's heart melted. This poor kid was probably having a really bad day.

"Don't worry about it. I'm sure that the manager keeps the codes in his office." Jezzie walked to the door, closely followed by Memory. When she had shut the door behind her, she shook her head in wonder. How this kid became an agent, she would never know.

"That was… strange, no?" Memory asked, lounging on the manager's couch. Jezzie grunted her agreement in his direction, and sat down at the computer, and opened up the file for the vault code. It was locked. Darn. Memory picked an invisible piece of lint off of his blue team jersey nonchalantly.

"So… how do you think Jetpack Guy is feeling? All couped up in the medical bay?" Memory asked out of the blue.

"I'd be pretty ticked." Jezzie began rummaging through the drawers.

"ticked?" he repeated.

"Pissed off, annoyed, psychotic, take your pick."

"You would feel those things?"

"Wouldn't you?" Jezzie sidled up to Memory, and turned up the sound on his iPod. He yelped, and fell off of the couch, and Jezzie began rifling under the cushions.

"Oui, but I'm not sure that Guy would feel the same way." Memory stood up, and dusted himself off. "Are you looking for this startup disk?" He asked, smiling at Jezzie's lost expression. She grinned, and took it from him, sliding it into the computer. Memory smiled foolishly and walked up to look over her shoulder.

"Maybe." She teased. The screen lit up.

Memory smirked. "I helped." Jezzie said. Memory laughed, and nodded. Jezzie was done scribbling down the combination, and swiveled the chair around to face him.

"What do you mean about Jetpack?"

"I know Jetpack very well, and he is probably just plotting to go solo again. Teams are just not his style, you know? Also, his guilt if his partner is hurt is very consuming. After the last one got captured, he went into a depression that lasted for weeks." Jezzie listened intently. "But, one day, mark my words, his reluctance for a partner will be his end. He is too reckless."

"Exactly how well do you know Jetpack?" Jezzie stood and leaned against the air of the couch. Memory shrugged.

"Well enough. We went to the academy together."

"Ah." Jezzie said. Guilt? The guy put her arm back into her socket with batting an eyelash. Guilt, her butt. They got down to the main floor to find Rookie glumly and vainly tugging at the handle to open the safe. Jezzie tried to give him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. She entered the code, and the huge metal door swung open with barely a creek. They all stepped inside, and Memory began muttering in French.

"What is it?" Jezzie asked him. All she could see was a small table laid out with a cash register and a calculator.

"If you are afraid of being crushed by thousands of coins, don't look up."

At the same time, Jezzie and Rookie looked up. A huge, glittering pyramid of coins stared back at them, reflecting their faces. Jezzie reached up one hand and lightly touched a coin. It stayed there like it was glued. Jezzie dug one of her finger nails under it and tried to pull, but all she got was a deep scratch in her violent violet nail polish. She scowled, and led the way back into the Gift Shop.

"What do you think it is?" Memory asked.

"Alien invasion?" Jezzie joked, but it was clear from the look on Rookie's face that he thought that she was serious. "Just kidding." She added for safety.

"Maybe it is some kind of super glue…" Memory mused out loud. Jezzie shook her head.

"Super gluing all of those coins to the ceiling? I'd rather steal them." She said, stroking her chin lightly. Then she put out her hand. "Give me a coin." She ordered Memory.

"Pardon?"

"Coin. Give."

"Here." Jezzie took the coin from his outstretched hand and stalked back into the vault. She flipped it in the air, where it hovered before flying to the ceiling and sticking there. Jezzie nodded.

"What was that?" Rookie asked, scratching his head.

"Magnetism." Jezzie said, and motioned for Memory to follow her to the stairs. "Rookie, stay here and watch the vault." She ordered, and the boy saluted. They ran up the stairs, and emerged on the roof, thanks to some handy lock picking skills by Memory. On the roof, a large magnet was pointing downward, and a buzzing box labeled "Powah box" supplied the power.

"What do we do now?" Memory asked, scratching at his spiked hair. Jezzie walked over to the box, and ripped off the thin metal square that covered the wiring. There was no visible off switch, so she was at a loss until a paper clip thrown from Memory hit the mother board. Sparks flew, and Jezzie had to shield her eyes and turn away. When she looked back, the battered bow now only said "ow."

"What's this?" she asked out loud, taking a square of white material from a vent. Memory shrugged, and Jezzie tucked it away for G. they went back down the stairs, and looked into the vault, where a huge pile of gold coins was now on the floor. "Rookie?" She called out nervously. At the sound of his name, the young agent poked his spin-top head out of the pile.

"Here, ma'am! Great job!" he complimented her, and then volunteered to clean up for them. Memory and Jezzie stepped outside to go back to HQ, when Jezzie caught sight of a short woman in pink with bouncy black hair. Jezzie looked quickly away, but it would look too strange to duck back inside the shop.

"What is wrong?" Memory asked her, and she pointedly looked at Mandy, who was getting close.

"I can't let her see me. She thinks I'm on a spiritual retreat at the Dojo." She whispered, and Memory nodded.

"She cannot see you? Okay then." Memory said, and then leaned in, kissing Jessie furiously.


	8. Frustrations

I do not own club Penguin. This chapter feels a bit off, but I just wanted to get it out there for Honeybee4Eva, who wants me to finish this story so desperately :)

* * *

When he pulled back, grinning foolishly, Jezzie punched him so hard he soon found himself eagle-spread in the snow.

"What in the name of Mod were you thinking?" she whispered furiously at him. She felt beyond violated. She felt absolutely murderous.

"Well, she didn't see you." A groggy Memory pointed out, getting up painfully from the ground, only to be pushed down again.

"Don't ever touch me again, and maybe you'll live." She muttered to him, and stalked away, back to the HQ. Idiot smug French Memory… she wiped her lips on the back of her hand and began spitting vigorously into the bushes.

Soon she managed to stomp her way into the HQ, shoving aside several other agents to get to G's office. He looked up calmly from his morning newspaper.

"Hello, Jay." He greeted her, ignoring the way she glared and gripped her hands into fists. "Did you find the missing coins?"

Coins? Oh, right, the stuff that she had been doing before she was assaulted. She fished around in her pocket and almost threw the white scrap of paper at the scientist, who continued to completely ignore her obvious anger. He peered at it through his thick glasses for a moment before nodding to himself.

"Good. I'll run some diagnostics on it and get back to you." He dismissed the steaming young woman with instructions to get some down time.

For some reason she ended up in the hospital wing, leaning against the door jamb of Jetpack's room where he looked like he was asleep. Her anger ebbed a bit as Memory's words echoed back at her. _His recklessness will be his end…_ she groaned when she realized where her train of thought was going.

Basically, she was condemning herself as Justin's partner until the day she died. Or she killed him. Or someone else killed him. Or he got hit by a bus.

Yeah. Now she sighed with happiness, imagining a Jetpack Guy-shaped smear on the three o clock bus that she usually took to the pizza parlor.

He shifted in his sleep and she moved inside the room, sitting down in a chair by his side. "Hey, partner." She couldn't help but say out loud.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, I mean you." She replied, and a smile twitched onto his lips. "How're you holding up?"

"I'm being forced to sleep for a week." He said bluntly. "How would you feel?"

"I probably would be hitting everyone in sight." She admitted.

The smile was real now as he clacked his wrists up and down, flashing stark white restraints. "Did that already."

Jezzie laughed and the last of her anger drifted away. Jetpack guy opened his eyes finally, and looked evenly at her. She gazed back until he rolled over on his side. No thank you, no happy to see you, no nothing. Jezzie didn't know what she was expecting, but it surely wasn't for one of his tied down hands to point wordlessly at the door.

She stormed out, and felt the overwhelming urge to kick something.

She went to the gym and worked out until sweat poured off of her and Robinson had to have her forced to her room to rest.

She hit the bed and was out like a light.

The next morning she was completely emotionless, calm and collected in what was perhaps her best outfit- nothing was over three years old. She marched down to G's office to give him a piece of her mind about how frustrated she was with the PSA, and about how she wanted nothing more to do with it. She had been strangled, broken bones, fallen off the iceberg, fallen off a MOUNTAIN, and was partnered with the world's most aggravating guy and his French twin, mister ignore other people's personal boundaries.

When she stood before his desk, he looked up. "Oh, Agent, I was just about to call you in." he folded his hands over piles of plans on his desk.

"You see, Memory has requested to trade partners with Jetpack Guy, who turned the decision over to you."

Jezzie's heart flew into her mouth and she subconscious moved her hand up to her throat- an old-time habit for what Mandy had always called her "abandonment sense".

Well, whatever it was, it was rising like a tide over her head, and she lost her breath for a few seconds before a little voice in the back of her mind informed her that she wasn't supposed to care.

Another little voice snapped at it to shut up as it reeled off images of Jetpack Guy strapped to his hospital bed. What would he have done if he had fallen through the ice without anyone? How safe would he be if he was still limping around in the wilderness, his leg broken in two places?

Gah! She wanted to scream and tear her hair out at how much thought she was putting into this. This was all just a paycheck, and yet the very mention of upheaval set her stomach turning.

"If it's up to me…" she drew the word out for as long as possible. "I'll choose Justin."

G arched an eyebrow. "Justin?"

"I mean Jetpack." She corrected herself quickly. "Slip of the tongue."

"Slip of the tongue." G whispered to himself when she had gone off in search of some sanity. "Justin, I believe you're getting soft." He said to the picture of the young boy in red hidden in his desk drawer. G was posing alongside Jetpack's parents, taken just weeks before they went MIA. Justin was happier then, his mouthi n a true smile that G hadn't seen in years.


	9. Cliffhanging

**First off, I must apologize profusely for my absence. But to make up for, I shall now unleash the super-long monst chapter! MWAH HAH HAH HAH!**

**I do not own C.P. (yet)**

* * *

Agents were going missing almost daily now. Every morning briefing seemed overflowing with tales of common missions going awry, and yet Jetpack never seemed to bat an eyelash, sitting next to his still partner who tried her best to avoid him when they were in training.

Rumors flew around so fast they made Jezzie's head spin. All were about her and Justin, with varying degrees of ew factor. Just because G couldn't keep his big mouth shut about her choosing him over Memory, who, for his part, was playing the role of sore loser very nicely, even running into Jezzie in the halls, his iPod ear buds halfway in.

He pouted and sniffed, opening his arms wide. "I think I deserve a… how do you say…?" he finally decided on a fitting term. "Pity hug?"

She rolled her eyes and elbowed past him. He waited until she was a few feet away before yelling "What? No kiss?"

It took all of her thinly wearing self control not to deck him right then and there, with all of the curious onlookers.

Instead she went to a private section of the gym where punching-bags were set up, and hastily doodled a halfway in iPod on one of them with sharpie. A few swift kicks and she felt much better, shifting into her regular Cardjistu moves. She decided to work on her Fire Offensive, and kicked high, driving her toes into the "throat" of her Memory punching bag. The cloth tore, and a few coffee beans spilled out. Cursing her herself, she unhooked it from the ceiling and laid it out flat, mentally debating against sewing it shut or duct-taping it.

Considering that half of her wardrobe and belongings were held together with a mix of the two, she had plenty of experience.

"You'll have to pay for that, you know." Jetpack was being Jetpack, leaning against the wall with a face devoid of expression.

She turned her back on him and went to town on another waiting punching bag. Shrugging it off, he moved around to hold the bag steady for her as she practiced. If anything, she hit harder, imagining him behind the faded blue cloth.

He grunted when a Water Neutral swung the bag heavily into his chest. "Angry about something?" he guessed.

"Nothing gets by you." She snapped, and whirled in an Ice Offensive. Jetpack had to take a step back.

Instead of asking her about why she was angry, he asked "Black belt?"

"What do you think?" she sighed, and hugged the bag like she was a little kid, letting it spin her around on her toes. He watched her for a minute before putting out a hand and stopping the revolutions.

"Would a mission make you feel better?" the way he said it made Jezzie feel terrible for taking her cabin fever out on him; he was indulging her, probably giving up his day off to let her drag him into a useless mission that G hung up on the corkboard for anyone to take. The board was filling up, too, mostly because of rookies being too afraid of capture.

"What is there?" she asked cautiously, and Justin turned to hide his smirk.

"There was an avalanche while you were destroying PSA property." He informed her. "We are supposed to go and rescue some trapped penguins of the ski slopes."

Jezzie straightened her shoulders and let him lead her to G, who was busy shoving papers into a backpack, wrestling an impossibly long scarf around his neck. He tripped on one end and fell over into Justin, who caught him under his armpits while Jezzie helped gather up his things.

"What's wrong, G?" she asked while his foster son gently set him back on his feet.

"It's the mountaintop science research station." He huffed. "I need to go check on some sensory probes…" Jetpack stopped the onslaught of scientific terms with a hand.

"Just give me the key to the gadget room and you can go." He diplomatically said, holding out his palm, which was soon full of metal jangling keys as the Gadget Guy rushed out.

When Jetpack let her into the spacious warehouse packed with useful items, she froze in fear. He didn't look back, leaving her to grapple with the headlights on a very familiar sled.

"I swear. _It's watching me._" She hissed into his ear, making him jump. It appeared, with a quick glance, that she had scaled a couple of shelves and a glass box to avoid crossing paths with her favorite destructing mode of transportation.

He shrugged her off and claimed an inner tube launcher, and rummaged around for a few minutes, cursing G's lack of useful tools under his breath.

"We need to get moving." Jay said, and tugged on his arm. "We can find stuff on the way."

In order to get to the ski hill lifts, they went through the main road that went through the town, and ran into a harried Rookie, looking incredibly abused.

"They fell off the mountain!" he was crying when Jezzie ran up to him.

"Who? The sledders?" she demanded, and he was too sad to do anything but nod. She turned to Jetpack. "We need some rope, like when we were on the iceberg case."

Quickly catching on, Jetpack rushed down the icy sidewalk to get some rope from the lighthouse, leaving Jezzie to comfort her young friend. "It's gonna be okay, kiddo. We're gonna get them and everything's going to be fine."

Saying out loud didn't necessarily make it true, but Jezzie could always hope.

* * *

Jetpack, Jezzie, and Rookie got to the ski village to see a small girl decked out in a brown sweater sobbing. The chains for the ski lift were hanging limp and the machinery chugged away angrily, smoke pouring out.

But Jezzie wasn't pay attention to that, Jetpack noticed with annoyance. She was honing in on the girl, Rookie sticking to her like a lost puppy. "Are you okay?" she asked the girl. Rookie nodded along with her.

Jetpack didn't hear anything after that, as busy as he was looking over the broken ski lift. He was able to get the wire back on the track, but after that he was lost. And then suddenly Jezzie was by his side, lifting up his sweatshirt.

"What the-?" was all he managed to get out before his belt was gone. After that, it took all of his agent skills to keep his jeans from hitting the snow. Jezzie wound the belt around the machine and the crank, hitting the box with her fist until it started up, turning slowly.

Jetpack blinked in surprise, and dimly could hear the girl and Rookie cheering in the background while Jezzie stood triumphant. She smiled at him. "You know, this is usually when you say 'Good job, partner.'"

He grunted something in her general direction that could have been "Yeahsurewhatever." But she couldn't be sure. He hopped onto the first ski lift to come his way, with Rookie and Jezzie managing to snag the one behind him.

At the top, the destruction was clear. Signposts were missing, along with large chunks of snow and rock. Caution tape and footprints were everywhere.

And in the middle of it all was Memory.

Jezzie growled silently, stiffening up like her pet puffle when she saw him. Jetpack noticed silently, and regarded his old Academy friend with a cool stare. Memory waved back happily. "Hello, my sweet agent Jay. And how are you today?"

"Can't really say." She said, hooking her thumb at Rookie. "There are minors about." Rookie blinked behind his strange sunglasses.

"Can we…" Jetpack looked ready to strangle as he stood between the two, "Just… rescue the people already? Hm?"

"Fine." Jezzie said tersely.

"Yes you are." Memory said dreamily.

Jezzie had every intention of pushing that son of a troll down the slope to meet his death by pine tree collision, but Jetpack beat her to it.

"Unneeded comments don't have a place on my mountaintop, Memory." He hissed. "So shut your asterisked mouth or _leave_."

Memory clammed up and fell silent.

"So…" Rookie said slowly, clearly uncomfortable with the situation, "What do we do now?" he strolled to the edge of the precipice and looked over. "Oh wow! I can see them! Hello-!" he lost his footing and tumble over. Before he could even squeak, Jetpack was hauling him back up by the very edge of his bright green shirt.

"We move on my mark." He ground out through gritted teeth, dropping Rookie on his backside in the snow. "First, we give the survivors the inner tube…"

He chatted through the instructions to Rookie the entire time, while Memory and Jezzie exchanged frosty glares until finally the retrieval system was in process. They all helped lifting the sodden and frightened people up.

When the last was gone, after hugging his best friend Rookie for five minutes straight, they all breathed a sigh of relief. Jetpack took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "See, was that so…" before he could say hard laced with brutal sarcasm that was sure to get him slapped, the ice beneath him cracked with a brittle snap and he disappeared from view.

"Justin!" Jezzie shrieked, and almost dove over to get him… only to be beaten by Memory. She grabbed his ankles, and she could feel Rookie's arms going around her waist. Her feet stopped sliding about a foot from the edge.

From below, she could hear Jetpack's voice. It would have been a huge relief if he hadn't chosen that moment to say "Well, now what?"

_What now indeed_ she thought.

* * *

**HAH HAH HAH! Not only do I unleash a monster, it be a monster with a cliffhanger... literally :)**

**What do you like? What do you dislike? What would you like to see in future chapters? What word rhymes with orange? I don't kow! So please review!**


	10. Rumble

**Okay, I find the few missions before this insanely boring. So, I will skip to my favorite, because it involves fistfights, bomb defusing, and wounds. But, before we get the cliffhangers rolling, I have a few things to say:**

**emma2679: Yes indeed, Jetpack Guy just loves trouble. Because when he manages to get out of it, he looks awesome. And I cannot comment on any shipping as of this moment. PS: I believe it is Chappie :)**

**GaryLover77: Glad you like it :) And I warn you, I will take my sweet time :)**

**Many thank-yous and whatnots to all who reviewed :) To those who did not, I am very very sad *tear* Okay, final note: I am thinking of re-writing a few of the early chapters to conform with the new ones (since my style has changed in the year that this has been up). What do you think?**

**Okay! Enough of my rambles. I do not own Club Penguin, blah blah blah disclaimer blah...**

* * *

"… not that I don't enjoy you two being quiet," Jetpack said a few moments later, "but this position is getting really uncomfortable."

"Do you always get sarcastic when you are inured, mon ami?" Memory asked.

"Yup."

"That's kind of sad, with a very annoying aftertaste…"

"Oh will you two just please shut up?" Jezzie groaned, and her foot gave a few inches. Think, think, _think_! Jetpack… Memory… mountain… snow… a green puffle…

"Jetpack." Jezzie sighed with a shake of her head. "You really irk me sometimes."

"All part of the job." Was his far-too cheery response. Jezzie's brown eyes went down to where she assumed Memory's head was hiding, covered with his loose Blue Team jersey.

"Memory, I have a plan." She said.

"Very good, Jay. I would applaud, but in this situation…"

"It involves letting you go."

He immediately began shouting something in French. Rookie snickered to himself. "Look, Jay, I know you hate me, but this seems to be a bit extreme, oui? So let us just calm down and talk about this rationally." He choked out in a panicked voice.

"Stop being such a priss, Memory. If she has to drop us, she'll drop us." Her heart swelled at Justin's unexpected support. Until she remembered his taught expression while telling Memory off for flirting with her, and she realized that he wanted to see poor, innocent Memory pee his pants as much as she did.

"Justin, if I didn't know you any better, I'd say you were joking." Memory hurriedly patched together with a stuttering chuckle.

"Well you do know me." Justin said, as Jezzie released Memory's ankles from her grip. "And I'm not joking."

Memory shrieked for a full moment and a half until he realized that he was hovering in the air, his arms caught in Jetpack's hands. He sighed dramatically, which displeased his tormentor enough for him to loosen his grip, dropping him a few inches. He clung to Justin like a monkey while they landed, and fell to his knees in the snow.

"Thank Mod! Thankyouthankyouthankyou…" he chanted, and kissed the snow at Rookie's feet. The kid smiled faintly, his face pale. Jezzie made a mental note to keep the life-endangering stunts to a minimum around him, lest he faint from stress.

Her cell phone rang simultaneously along with Jetpack's, Rookie's, and Memory's. Rookie fumbled for his and opened it a moment after Jetpack and Jezzie, while Memory didn't even try, only leaning down to listen in on the ten-year-old's call.

It was G. "I saw your teamwork today, Squad Delta. And you too, Memory- current partner MIA, and Rookie- unassigned, untrained beyond the Academy. I am impressed. For protection, we will be combining several different teams into larger squads, four or five each. I believe that you four will do well together."

"Um, G?" Jezzie tried, invisible fingers crawling over her skin, "How did you know we did well together?"

"I've got a high-powered telescope trained on your position right now. Completely undamaged by the avalanche, by the way."

"Joy." Jetpack said dryly. G chose to overlook it… in a literal and metaphorical sense, peering down at the quartet from the big mountain.

"You all will be joined together into Squad Delta. Rookie will need to be taken out daily, for outside training."

"What am I, am dog?" Rookie mumbled to himself.

"Yup." G replied happily, and hung up on all of them.

* * *

"This will not stand!" Memory yelled to anyone that would listen for more than two seconds. Most people only lasted for one. Since they were quickly growing tired of tirades of how evil they were, of how he refused to be partnered with them, of how much he _loathed _them, Jezzie and Jetpack left him alone for a few days, both taking turns training Rookie, who in turn fell in love with the job of being their shadows.

It was four weeks until they finally crossed in the real world.

Jezzie hadn't been planning on meeting them there; all that she wanted was a little bit of time off. Get a hot chocolate and relax upstairs with a new book, maybe. But no. Instead, after the mug of warm liquid was in her hands, she turned to peer curiously at the bell as the Coffee Shop door opened, revealing an unsmiling young man in a red sweatshirt and shockingly green eyes beneath black hair, and a younger boy in a spinning top and red-rimmed glasses. He immediately saw her and waved.

"Hiya, Jezzie!" she smiled back tiredly and slumped onto a couch. Soon she was joined by Jetpack (coffee, black), and Rookie (hot chocolate, extra marshmallows). Jetpack, even though it was technically his day off, immediately went in PSA business.

"Apparently the avalanche last month was Herbert's doing."

"Big surprise. We doing anything about it?"

"Yeah, G sent out a squad to collect his sidekick. Klutzy. Apparently they had a bit of trouble…"

"I can imagine."

Jetpack shrugged, as if to say _yeah, tell me about it._ "And then there was the incident with the clock getting screwed up."

"Oh yeah, I remember that. My friend Rory was on the repair crew. Hell of a nice guy, he's all lovesick after that chick who handled the case… what's her name…?"

"Marla." Justin supplied.

"Yeah, her." Jezzie heard a sigh, and peered down at Rookie curiously. "Uh, Rooks? What's up with the face?"

The young agent's expression instantly turned from warm and fuzzy to shocked and slightly confused. "What face?"

"_That _face." Jezzie poked his freckled nose. "The 'Oh my Mod you're pretty' look. Justin, tell me that you see what I'm seeing."

Jetpack gave a confirming nod. "Who is she?"

"I… uh… I'm not… err…" he fidgeted, and yet he couldn't help but look up, directly at a young girl in a flouncy pink dress and red hair up in two tiny pigtails. As if on cue, she tilted her head back and let loose a tinkling laugh. Rookie's cheeks almost set on fire from the heat of his blush and he couldn't help but let out a whimpered sigh.

Jetpack and Jezzie shared a smile. Their little Rookie was growing up!

Jezzie nudged him. "You should ask her out."

Rookie jumped. "What! No! I can't…"`

"Sure you can. It's easy. Just ask her if she'd like to go get some pizza later." Justin said. "They say yes every time."

"Oh they do, do they? And you have proof of this?" Jezzie snorted over Rookie's head at her partner.

"Believe or not Jezzie, I've had girlfriends before." He replied calmly.

"Do I sense a plural in your voice, Justin? As in more than one?"

"That's generally what using an S at the end of a sentence means, yes." He took a sip from his coffee and looked down at Jezzie's smirk with a sarcastic look of his own. "Have you?"

"Have I what?"

"Have you had more than one boyfriend?" as their banter increased, they had gotten closer and closer until they were only inches apart. Both of them were smiling, completely at ease.

"I don't think that you need to know that." She responded.

"So that's a no." he deduced, leaning back in his seat triumphantly.

"No, I just don't think that you need to… where did Rookie go?" From right beneath them, the young agent had slipped away, leaving his hat and sunglasses behind with his empty mug. They both craned their necks to look at their young apprentice standing with his crush outside of the Gift Shop. They both laughed and went inside.

"That little rascal." Jezzie laughed, and was knocked from her seat as the ground shook. She was helped to her feet by Jetpack, to only get thrown down again as hard jerks of the ground intensified. Something heavy pressed down on the top of her neck, and she felt as though her hair was being yanked out.

"Jezzie!" she dimly heard Justin yelling her name over the roar of the ground and the cracking of ice and wood. Her hot chocolate was staining the arm of her jacket, and by the large dark stain on his hood and the sticky state of his hair, Jetpack's coffee had similarly retaliated. He had stopped yelling her name, but was now crouching over her, trying to shield her from falling bits of debris. Wood pattered down, and the Windows exploded, sending icy drops of glass into the air.

She tried to lift her arms to push him away and tell him to protect himself, but she couldn't move her arms, only feeling a fuzzy numbness. She truly began to panic then, and the final earthquake shifted away. Jetpack lifted her up, cradling her pounding head against his chest, and was shouting for a doctor.

She was shouting too, but not because of her head and the large piece of rock that had hit it, but because, through the shattered windowpane, she could see the top of the Gift Shop, the bottom completely underground.

"ROOKIE!" she screamed one final time before blacking out.

* * *

**Hello, my name is Illyria Lives, and I am a cliffhanger addict. *crawls into hole of shame***

**Much love for all who click that blue button! And even more love if after that, they continue on to Favorite! All of those who do these things will be allowed one question for any character they want! Example-**

**Illyria Lives: Well, Jetpack, how do you like your coffee?**

**Jetpack Guy: Black. Sometimes I put hot sauce in it.**

**Ugh, long Author's Note is long. Sorry, I'm in a writing kind of mood.**


	11. Wounded

**Hello again! Happy fast updating day! I just couldn't wait to tell you the good news... chapters 1-3 have been rewriten and combined! *jumps around while balloons rain down* Anythewho... I haven't gotten any questions yet. And I'm still waiting...**

**Look at the poll on my profile to vote for your favorite characters!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Club Penguin.**

* * *

When Jezzie flew back to her body, she was in her old friend the PSA hospital, Jetpack was pacing around in her room, hood up and eyes down. She grumbled something, her tongue in knots, and he was by her side in an instant.

"Jezzie, I need you to wiggle your toes." He said in a rushed, completely serious voice. She peered at him strangely before twitching her foot.

"There, now where is Rookie? Is he safe?" she demanded, and he looked away briefly.

"Jezzie… that rock you were hit by… something in your neck…" he choked out, his deep voice so unlike his normal tone that it made Jezzie's heart stop for a moment in fear. She focused on her feet and alienated the individual bones and tendons, stretching and turning them.

A sob caught in her throat as she pulled on Jetpack's arm, his glasses slipping down his nose as he finally looked at her red, twisted face for the first time since he had paced in the CAT scan room, looking at how the rock had damaged her spinal cord…

"Justin," she sobbed, "Why can't I feel my feet? Justin? JUSTIN!"

He wordlessly stood, stumbling drunkenly out of the room, leaving Jezzie to force her feet to move, her brown eyes fearfully avoiding the folded wheelchair glaring at her from across her bed.

Elsewhere, Rookie awoke.

He couldn't remember the quake, or the aftermath; all he could remember was the pain of having his scalp peppered with glass chips, the pain of his legs that were pinned in place by the metal of a door, and the pain of a metal tube piercing his right arm. There was another pain, in his heart, but he couldn't remember why… perhaps it had something to do with the girl on the ground a few feet away, but he couldn't be sure… the pressure on his head so too much, and the young agent let his head slip to the floor, sleeping away his memories.

* * *

Memory gently approached the hospital room with a handful of flowers. He didn't really want to apologize to her, but he couldn't help it. Her all smiles with a strong and bold spirit was like a magnet to him. Besides, as a once-active girl now probably confined to a wheelchair, she needed all the love and flowers she could get. As he waltzed down the hallway, his one earbud not even playing anything (a little-known secret), he met up with a traumatized-looking Jetpack, who looked like he was trying to pull his hair out. Memory was about to ask what his problem was when Jetpack grunted, punching his fist through the drywall. Cradling his bleeding fist, he shouldered past Memory quickly, as if running from his own temper.

Memory whistled to himself slowly. Soon the high-pitched whistle grew to a surprised shriek when Jezzie, her blonde hair chopped off close to her neck and one shoulder bared by the slipping of a hospital gown. She was leaning heavily on the wall, her toes trailing behind her as she yanked herself forward with the help of a titanium railing. Memory was frozen in place to see her up and about, and didn't move when she grabbed his shirt in a sharp-nailed fist. She pulled his face down to hers.

"Where. Is. My. Rookie?" she hissed. He shivered.

"I-I don't know. There's- it's-" she tightened her grip, and he spat out "The Gift Shop's still underground. It's too unstable to get anyone in." she sneered and shoved him, falling down as she did so. From on top of him, she growled and jerked herself up, once again tripping down the hall, yelling for G at the top of her voice.

Memory would not be him now for anything.

Jetpack and all of the senior agents were in the briefing room, a long rectangle with a screen on one end and a large array of screens on all of the walls. Justin Guy was crushing his mug of coffee in one hand while he had a whispered conversation with G about Jezzie's condition and her place at the PSA.

"She's one heck of an agent." Jetpack whispered. "You can't just pull her off."

"It's not up to me, Jetpack." G sighed. "In accordance with the Disable Veterans clause, all we can do is provide her with care in her own home. _Not _here."

"But it's not her fault." Jetpack argued. "It was mine. All I had to do was push her out of the way a second sooner, but I didn't. I should be barred or penalized or some…" the room was suddenly hushed, so he finished his thought at a lower tone "..thing."

Someone cleared their throat in a way that was _very _familiar. He whirled around, and the cup dropped from his grip, and he let it. The explosion of a cup shattering was just the sound the room needed, looking down at his pale partner, miraculously on her feet. "Jezzie." He said simply, and hugged her.

She didn't hug him back at first, and then whispered into his neck: "I'm not leaving you anytime soon, you pain in the asterisk." To prove how much she despised him for leaving her alone in the hospital room, she shoved him away. He slipped in his coffee and ended up on his butt on the ground, his hands stained brown and a shard of ceramic dug into his palm but didn't break skin.

G came up and took her elbow. "Agent, I think you should sit down, your head injury may have caused irreversible damage. If you don't get off your feet soon…" she swatted his arm away and turned to face the assembled staring agents.

"I'm not going anywhere until we _help out Rookie._ Has anyone even been there to scope things out?" Silence. And then an agent in a fedora, Robinson, stepped up.

"Agent, you are emotionally compromised and wounded to boot. For the time being, I move to remove you from active duty, effective immediately." He said clearly, no show of remorse in his old gray eyes. only pity. Jezzie hated pity.

She turned on her unsteady heels and tripped out, angrily as an asterisk with saving people's lives and showing these ignorant agents that there was no such thing as to much emotion on her to-do list. Effective immediately.

* * *

**Yay! I got to use Robinson again! And make a reference to Jezzie's pity-intolerance. Now, I have a word for all of you non-reviewers out there... you make me sad and dishonor your families. At least you can leave me a single word review. I would even take a completely blank one. If that's possible...**

**Also, the rest of the story is mapped out, with an end in sight. Along with a sequel... still working on plots and titles, but I'm pretty sure that it will be called Emotion's Creed. Yah I know, Illyria is gettin' fancy with the titles... whatever. Please express your opinions! I live for them!**


	12. Doubt

**Hello and happy Thanksgiving to all of ye fellow Americans! Yay! New repliers! And QUESTIONS! Oh, glorious questions!**

**Illyria: The first question is for Rookie. Purplee Uzumaki wants to know what your favorite kind of puffle is.**

**Rookie: Well, that's a hard question. I just love all puffles! Except for maybe Agent J's puffle... he bit me once. But I'd have to say that I like the orange ones the most. They're just so goofy and fun!**

**Illyria: Nice. Next question is for Jetpack, from Honeybee4Eva. She wants to know why you changed your name from Justin to Jetpack guy.**

**Jetpack: Well, Jetpack isn't really my name, it's just an alias for the PSA. And since I kinda spent my entire life with the PSA, it really caught on as a nickname. Do you want to hear the story about why I chose Jetpack Guy as my alias?**

**Illyria: Been there, wrote a fic about it. Please, send in more questions!**

**Ugh, I'm getting really wordy on this AN, but I just have to get it off my chest that this and the next few chapters are going to take a lot out of me. I think I bit off a little more plot developement than I could chew. But still... I think that in the next few chapters I will make it clear that this story actually has an overlying plot of my own design. *cue large gasp from audience***

**Disclaimer: Club penguin, I do not own.**

**PS: All of you JezzieXJetpack Guy shippers out there, (you know who you are!) this is for you.**

* * *

Jezzie hefted the cane attached to her right arm up a bit, reminding the guard stationed at the gadget room that even though she was, for the time being, a "disabled veteran" of the PSA, she could still seriously wound. The guard, a big beefcake of a red-skinned man glared down form his considerable height with all intentions of telling the scuffed girl to _back the heck down and get out_, when he suddenly cowed, sinking back a bit into the wall. Jezzie looked over her shoulder to see Jetpack standing still land silent at her elbow.

"She's with me." He intoned in his serious voice.

The man began bobbing his head up and down. "Of course, Mr. Jetpack Guy… sir." He turned around and hit the entry code for them. Jezzie made sure to glare at him as she hobbled past. The door shut behind them with a whoosh and they were free to talk.

"You shouldn't be on your feet, Jezzie." He said while she looked all over for the seismic tracker that she had seen here before. It was dusty and leaning drunkenly against one wall. Jezzie winched as she got on her knees to peer through the dust-screen. It seemed to have no visible damage, so she searched the ground with her eyes for a plug.

"Jezzie." Jetpack said to get her attention, and she turned to him, ready to snap about how she didn't want to see his face again. For Mod's sake, he was a heartless robot that could walk out on his traumatized partner without a—

He was hugging her again. Only this time, instead of her pushing him away, he held at arm's length, his black glasses reflecting back her surprised and annoyed expression. "If you ever tell anyone about this, I will break both of your legs. But… I'm really glad that you're okay."

She smiled at him in a winning way. "Does that mean that you finally accept me as your partner?"

He shook his head and pushed his glasses up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Jezzie, exactly where have you been for the past three months?" he said as an answer.

Now she was hugging him. And again, he held her at arm's length after a few moments. "Okay, enough of this hugging stuff. We've got a Rookie to save."

The seismic tracker was working great, and they pinpointed the quake, along with several smaller ones, to have come from the docks. They set out immediately.

At the docks, they were assaulted by the vision of a tall man in a white suit with milky skin astride a huge monstrosity of a vehicle, at one end that look like a fan. Behind the machine, sitting pretty in her own little flame-colored wagon, Klutzy sat. Jezzie had never seen a photo of her in briefings, and was a bit surprised to find her vacant-eyed with a slightly slack mouth, showing the tip of her pink tongue. Her orange hair was in two ponytails, and her hands were clenched into small little fists by her side. As much as she hated to admit it, the sidekick was adorable.

"Herbert!" Jetpack shouted to get the man's attention.

"Why hello, little child of agents." His eyes perked up when they saw Jezzie. "And not-yet-an-agent. Long time no see."

"Not long enough." She hissed.

Jetpack, ever the PSA trained man that he was, decided to take the diplomatic approach as regulated per Academy training. So he shouted at Herbert that the PSA would lock him up and he was never going to get away with what he had done with minimal asterisking.

Herbert rolled his graying eyes and snorted. "And your PSA is so reliable with it's information, Jetpack. Just ask your parents… oh right, you can't." he pursed his lips and shook his head sadly. "What a tragedy. Two of the most well-informed agents disappearing with no search parties sent out…"

Jezzie looked at Justin fearfully, expecting him to explode or shout or attack the large man, but all he did was look up slightly and shove his fists in the pocket of his sweatshirt. "What are you talking about?" he asked in a dangerously calm voice. "Search parties… they were sent out."

Herbert laughed cruelly. "Do I hear worry in your voice, little agent? Finally seeing the big picture? Your PSA doesn't care about geniuses like me, only keeping their own secrets intact. So why don't you just waddle on home and make sure that they're not planning your "disappearance" right now? Leave me to my business."

Jezzie hobbled up on her crutches. "And what business would that be, Herbert?"

The man waved his hand through the air, dismissing her question. "Oh, just some things. You know. Stuff."

Jezzie scoffed. "Right. Completely legal stuff."

"Exactly."

"I was being sarcastic."

Herbert glared. "Well, if you're going to be that way, then I guess I will have to divert your attention in another way… how about destroying Club Penguin? Yes, I think that that will do nicely." He turned the machine in a completely loop to aim back at the original hole. "I wouldn't follow me, if I were you. These tunnels can be extremely dangerous without a map."

The machine disappeared from view.

Jezzie turned to ask Jetpack what they're plan of attack was, only to see his bright red back as he ran off to the Sport Shop.

"G!" he was shouting at the top of his voice. "G!"

For the first time since joining the PSA, she was truly afraid. For Rookie, for the island, for Justin, for G, and for what secrets were hiding under the layers of the agency…

Things weren't as black and white as she had previously thought.

* * *

**Yes, indeed. Jetpack is, for lack of a better description, EXTREMELY SCARED/PISSED OFF. Explination: He trusts the PSA, and suddenly he is doubtful. And with doubt comes being scared and doubting whether the people he trusts his life with makes him angry. Angry at himself, at G, at Herbert.**

**Next update will probably be on Saturday or Sunday.**

**You need to review. Right now. Vote on the poll on my profile, you must also do. But not right now. After you review. Okay, I'm done. Sorry for the long Authoress Notes. Bye.**


	13. The Search

**Hehe, when I said Saturday/Sunday, I meant whenever I was bored and had a lot of time on my hands. So... happy psuedo-Saturday :)**

**Illyria: Okay, question time. The first new question is for Klutzy. Ready?**

**Klutzy: *clicks her teeth and snaps her fingers***

**Illyria: Great. Now, Purplee Uzumaki wants to know your age.**

**Klutzy: *clicks and snaps***

**Illyria: ... I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that.**

**Herbert: *sigh* You idiot. She said that she's about ten years old.**

**Illyria: *Grumbles about Herbert's lack of respect* Anyway, the next one is for Jezzie. Honeybee4Eva wants to know how you survived after your parents died. Did someone care for you?**

**Jezzie: Yeah, I lived with my grandmother for a little while, until I was about thirteen. Then I went to go live on my own.**

**Illyria: Why?**

**Jezzie: I dunno. I guess I just didn't like following all of her rules, you know? But it's no big deal. Thirteen is legal caring-for-yourself-age on the island.**

**Illyria: Fascinating. And for the favorite characters poll, the winners are Jezzie (3 votes) Jetpack (2 votes) and Rookie and Robinson tied (1 vote. Really surprised that someone voted for Robinson.)**

**Robinson: Hey!**

**Illyria: Shut up and do the disclaimer.**

**Robinson: *sighs* Illyria Lives does not own Club Penguin.**

* * *

Memory was one foot out the door, one foot in, when Jetpack Guy rushed past, successfully knocking him to the ground. The door closed on his ankle for a moment before opening automatically. He cussed colorfully in French, and instead of ignoring it, like he thought he would, Jetpack turned on him, easily lifting him up. Memory's heart lodged in his throat and he desperately wished that his iPod had been playing. Anything to distract him from the wild look in Justin's green eyes. Another shocker to add to the growing list- he had willingly removed his sunglasses.

"Where is he?" Justin demanded. His normally low voice was shot a degree lower with a hard rasp on the throat that with anyone else would have gone with tears. But the Jetpack wasn't one for tears.

"Who?" Memory asked in a shaking little voice, afraid of being pummeled. His ankle was throbbing away to the beat of his heart, a beat that intensified as Justin brought him closer to his face.

"G. Robinson. _Anyone._" Jetpack growled. "I need to talk to _someone_."

Memory flew back to the early days of his time at the Academy; to a class he assumed was How to Resist Interrogation. He never really was sure, because the instructor refused to talk at a low volume and had an accent almost as thick as his own. So he worked on his calming down possible psychopath charm.

"Talk to me." He said. "You are not in your right mind, my friend. Please consider-"

"I'm down backing down! I don't care if I'm in my right mind, I need answers!" Jetpack shook him a little and shouted in his face. A rookie girl squealed a little as she ran away.

Memory held up his hands. "Jetpack, listen to yourself. No matter what you hear when you are like this, it will come out as a threat, or a lie, or whatever. The whole island is in terror. Your partner has been removed from active duty. You can cross your angst-bridge when you come to it. But for right now, there are more important things to work on."

"He's right." Jetpack jumped, and Memory flinched to see Jezzie standing off to one side, bent over her crutches. "We still need to save Rookie, stop Herbert. I might not be a PSA agent right now, but I'll be asterisked if I stand by and watch."

Jetpack let Memory slip form his fingers and easily took his sunglasses from his pocket and put them on his nose. Memory dusted himself off. "So, I guess that we are going under the radar. What is our plan of attack?"

Jetpack took a calming breath. "We need to canvas the tunnels. Memory, do you think you can-"

"Already done." He said quickly, only to backtrack. "What tunnels?"

Jetpack ignored him. "I'll see to the damage to the Gift Shop, maybe get inside and try and get Rookie. Jezzie, show Memory the tunnels. And," he looked around to make sure that no one was eavesdropping, "We can't get help from anyone PSA. That means Aunt Arctic, Rory, G, and anyone who knows that we're not supposed to be out. Got it?"

Jezzie and Memory nodded, happy to have their fearless leader back. Jetpack sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Than let's go."

* * *

Jetpack was berating himself the entire walk to the town. Alert and aloof, his father always said. Not explode and go on a killing spree with your temper. There was caution tape around the sunken Gift Shop, and a crowd of fearful watchers. Rory was off to one side with a camera crew, waving his arms and explaining in his Brooklyn accent about how unstable the building was, and about how there was no way of knowing if there was any survivors.

Jetpack scoffed to himself.

He sidled along one edge of the crowd, trying to find a gap that had at least a little cover from the cameras or people watching. His chance came near one of the side windows that were covered with a curtain. He bent his head to hide it and easily flipped forward, diving into it and hitting the hardwood floor inside a little harder than he had originally intended. Once he had his breath back, he looked up and around. Things had been shaken from the shelves and the couch had lost a few cushions. A computer in one corner was surprisingly intact. A door leading down had been opened. On silent feet, Jetpack Guy headed down to see if his Rookie was still alive.

The downstairs was a huge disaster, much worse than the upstairs. Pieces of the flooring had been uplifted by the uneven subterranean floor. Nothing was left on any of the walls, all scattered about.

The first body Jetpack came to was Rookie's young girlfriend. He put two fingers to her neck and concluded that she was alive, if only just. Her arms and legs were bent at unnatural angles and red had been combed into her hair. Moving her could be hazardous if she had any spinal fractures, like Jezzie, so with a heavy heart he moved on.

The door to the Gift Shop was a normal sized door, with small pieces of glass ensnared around metal decorations. The glass had been pounded out and the metalwork was twisted. Beyond the gap of the door there was nothing but darkness and a metal tube.

Rookie lay tangled in the middle of it.

Jetpack scrambled over and kneeled down, ignoring the screams of protest from his lacerated limbs. He moved his hands silently over Rookie's body, trying to find a way to help.

There was none.

There was a gash on his forehead, encrusted by blood. His right arm was broken and seemed to be pierced by the metal tube. His legs were trapped under the bent and broken metal.

Jetpack could see that he had tufty brown hair, and was surprised that it was free of blood. As Jetpack struggled with his mind to figure out what to do, Rookie's blue eyes opened.

"Jetpack… sir." His fingers twitched a bit, as if aching to salute. "It… worked."

"What worked?" Jetpack asked gently, just as Rookie's eyes were closing.

The young boy's lips smiled. "She said yes. We're going to go get some pizza… on Friday… isn't that great?"

Jetpack felt his eyes prick tears. But he would not cry. He refused to cry over this young boy. If anything, Rookie deserved to die with the false surety of Jetpack's wooden smile as he said "That's great, Rookie. That's… perfect."

He bent his head and took out his phone. All of the PSA lines were tapped and listened too by HQ, so he couldn't tell Jezzie his situation. All he could do was call her and hang up after she had answered. She knew that it was him, and she knew that things were bad.

When were they not?

* * *

Jezzie clicked the phone shut with a deep sense of failure. If Jetpack had nothing good to say, he wouldn't say anything at all.

The silence afterwards was deafening.

"Well?" Finally Memory spoke up, his accented thickened by fear. Jezzie had no answer other than to continue forward into the darkness. Memory swallowed his heart and walked forward, counting steps and watching his compass. They had a rudimentary map plotted out on a sheaf of paper and were almost done, going on what appeared to be the final turnaround, coming out into the original cavern.

"So," Jezzie said, pointing at the map. "Judging by the tunnel's placement, they all… go nowhere. And make no sense." She sighed and closed her eyes.

"Tell me again," Memory prompted gently, "What exactly Herbert said."

"He said something about the PSA not being trustworthy, about Jetpack's parents, and about how… he needed to divert us." Her eyes lit up. "That's it! These tunnels—they're just supposed to distract us." She began following the tangles paths with her eyes. "But from what?"

"What." Memory sighed, throwing his arms in the air. "Who, when, how, why. We don't know anything!"

"We know Who." Jezzie said calmly, still thinking. "We know How, What, and When. All that leaves is Why and… Where." She perked up suddenly as a light bulb exploded in her brain. "Memory, did any other buildings fall? Just the Gift Shop?"

He nodded slowly, not understanding.

"Was there anything wrong with the Gift Shop foundations? Was it just built differently?"

"Everything in the Town was built the exact same way at the exact same time. J, where are you going with this?"

"Quiet. I'm thinking that the Gift Shop fell for a reason… maybe blocking something off." She pointed to a black space in the center of their map. "Did we get there?"

"No." Memory shook his head. "The tunnel leading down there looked too unstable."

"Well, judging by the map and the Club Penguin Map… they correspond. That space is where the Gift Shop is." She handed the map to Memory. "We have to tell Jetpack."

He nodded and was about to answer when a hard gust of wind hit them. Jezzie, unstable on her crutches fell over, crushing him. His hands went up to protect his face, and he released the crumble map into the air. It was swept away, towards the Town.

Jezzie glared in that direction from her spot on the ground. "Oh, now you're just being difficult."

* * *

**Yes, I am indeed difficult :) Again, I will update whenever I have a lot of time on my hands. So anytime between now and Sunday, basically.**

***runs off to go eat deep-fried turkey***


	14. The Rescue

**Argh! I'm so sorry for not updating. Schoolwork just kinda snuck up on me in a dark alley and beat with a metal pipe. It then proceeded to take me to Real Life court and sue me for all I own. But no worries- I have a really good lawyer from the firm of Wit and Sarcasm. Anyway, here ya go-**

**Illyria: First question is for Jetpack, from emma2679. Where are you from? *leans forward in intense interest***

**Jetpack: *clearly uncomfortable* Um... from Club Penguin? There's not really anywhere else to be from...**

**Illyria: *nodding in an understanding manner* Mm-hm. Fascinating. Next question, same asker: Do you like Jezzie?**

**Jetpack: *mechanized voice recording* I'm sorry, I cannot comment on any shipping as of this point. Please stand by for any future chapters/sequel fics.**

**Illyria: *suddenly very angry* Oh yeah, and Herbert? This is for you, from emma2679. *Kicks where no boy wants to be kicked***

**Herbert: *rolls around in pain***

**Illyria: Send in those questions! Or at least review... otherwise I have no idea if this is being read! For all I know, only emma2979, Honeybee4Eva, and purplee uzumaki are reading this!**

**Disclaimer: Yada yada yada. You know what I mean.**

* * *

"What do we do now?" Memory asked her gently. She bit her lip and frowned.

"We go after the map." She decided and got to her feet, shaking the shortened hairs from her face. "Jetpack can handle himself for a little while."

Memory really doubted this to be true, but he followed her dutifully out of the Docks and into the Town, past the huge crowd gathering around the Gift Shop. He nudged her with one elbow. "Hey, isn't that your friend Mandy?"

"Memory, I don't have time for this. If you try to kiss me again…"

"Oh Mod no, I'm just trying to warn you that she's coming this way." Jezzie's head snapped up at this from where she had been studying her feet shuffling through the snow. Indeed, her old friend was rushing towards her, looking worried. She glared at Memory, silently blaming him for all things evil in the world. He smiled down blissfully at her.

"Jezzie! Oh, you poor dear!" Mandy crushed her in a hug. Jezzie was starting to get enough of all the hugging when her friend pushed her away. "What happened to your hair?" Mandy gasped, fingering the wispy blonde feathers escaping from her hat. Jezzie worked up a tolerant smile.

"Why, it caught on fire during a tragic skiing accident." She said, and hobbled off on her crutches. "Now, I'd love to tell you the story, but I really must be going-"

"Jezzie!" Memory shouted suddenly, pointing to the sky. Mandy turned curiously, and when she turned back, Jezzie and her blonde friend were already gone, chasing after a scrap of white cloud, drifting elegantly away.

* * *

Thomas stomped his feet to keep warm, waiting to se the brand new play at the stage, and heard the crumple of paper instead of the crunch of fresh snow. He bent over to get a better look, pulling a wet and smeared paper from under his boot. He was just lifting it up to the light when a teenager took him to the ground in a full-on tackle.

"Argh! Give me the Mod asterisking paper!" Memory shouted at the top of his voice before ripping the page from the fist of the poor, innocent civilian that was probably seconds from wetting his pants in fear. Memory got up, popping the front of his shirt to adjust it over his shoulders. "Merci, mon brave homme. Votre aide est appreciated." He said in French*, and enjoyed the confused look on the man's face.

Jezzie finally arrived, and promptly smacked him on the back of the head. "What kind of stunt was that?"

"A manly and impulsive one." Memory said proudly, receiving another slap.

"We don't have time to screw around." Jezzie chided him, and led the race back to the Docks. "We have to finish this!"

* * *

Jetpack wiped the sweat from his forehead for the tenth time in what seemed like only a few minutes, but something inside of him told him that it was closer to fifteen. Gently he eased Rookie out from his metal prison, and bit his lip when Rookie cried out in his sleep. He had been going like this, inch by inch until his teammate was spread out on his stomach, his legs free of anything sharp. But still that asterisk pipe! From his spot behind the ruined door Jetpack still couldn't get to it. It pinned Rookie to the floor, and Jetpack couldn't find a way to remove it.

He had never felt so useless.

Even when he was a child, holding G's hand and waiting by the door for his parents to return, he still felt that by simply _believing _he could make them come home. He touched his phone and commanded his wooden arms to keep still, while every sensible bone in his body screamed for him to call Jezzie and ask for her help. She was better at this than he was. She was the agent that dealt with the broken survivors. He was the man they sent to clean up the mess.

His fingers opened his phone. Just one quick call… through tapped lines… he groaned and shut it.

"Justin?"

He opened his eyes.

Jezzie, even weeks afterward, would never be able to describe how Jetpack looked when she spoke his name. His hard shield of nonchalance with cracked and worn, his eyes empty holes drilled through the mask of his face. His fingers hung limp and bleeding from where he had cut himself, trying to free Rookie.

The agent that held all of her attention, however, was Rookie. He looked so much smaller without his hat and glasses, almost like a normal kid. She noticed with grotesque shock that a pipe that dropped from the front of the door bent and snaked its way inside until colliding with Rookie's arm.

Memory, who had been scouting around to see if he could get behind the building, came back, huffing and puffing. "It's impossible. There's no other…" he stopped in his tracks and his jaw went slack at Rookie's prone position and his wound. He then proceeded to cross himself and chant something under his breath. Jezzie's French was horribly nonexistent, so she had no idea why the sentence "Notre animateur, en ligne d'art qui, soit sanctifé qu'ils, adresse IP." Was so important.

She moved forward until she and Jetpack were only separated by a few feet of twisted metal and rubble. She swallowed her heart, which had steadily worker its way up her chest and silently asked the question whose answer she was dreading.

Jetpack understood and said quietly, "He's alive."

Jezzie breathed a sigh of relief. Then she got down to business. She took out her phone and hit the hidden trigger, releasing a small wrench made of super-durable black steel. She undid a few bolts and gripped the top of the loosened pipe.

"Count of three." She grunted, and counted. On three, she pulled up, and with a yell and a terrible sucking sound, Rookie's arm came free.

Almost instantly, Jetpack was up and running with the boy in his arms. Jezzie craned her head back to try and look after him, but soon he was lost as he went up the stairs.

Memory touched her elbow lightly, making her jump. "He's going to be okay."

Jezzie's brown eyes misted over. "I hope so."

Memory shifted uncomfortably for a few moments before coughing and reminding her, "We still have no way through."

"Yes we do." Jezzie rolled her eyes and pocked at the huge pile of metal with one crutch. The harder she pushed it, the more it moved. Soon Memory had caught on and was helping her scrape and move the metalwork of the door aside. Even with the two of them, it only opened up a space as wide as a foot. Setting a grim face, Jezzie let it bite and tear at her clothes while Memory mutter something under his breath, probably mourning the loss of his blue team shirt.

Inside, glass crunch under their feet as they made their way to the vault.

"Not to be… how you say… _pessimistic_." Memory said when they entered the swaying and crunched circle that was noticeably lacking a door. "But how are you planning on getting through the vault… oh." He scratched his head self-consciously when he saw that the rough sides of the cave hadn't been large enough to save the vault walls. The back of the vault had a large hole ripped from it, looking like a much larger roll of tinfoil.

They ducked into it, and found a small, almost ceiling-height tunnel, like a subterranean hallway. At the end there was a very bright light, and the clicking and beeping of electronics. There was a crash and someone cursed, yelling nonsense about wrenches and useless people.

Jezzie peeked at Memory, looking so stoic that if he died his hair, grew a few inches, worked out, and got a nose job he could have passed for Jetpack's twin. She took a deep breath and hobbled forward. Memory came behind her, his feet shuffling.

The light broke over her, revealing the inside of the cavernous room, and her breath caught in her throat. Her heart hammered away at her rib cage. Beside her now, Memory muttered "Asterisk."

She couldn't help but agree.

* * *

**Bad news: I probably won't be updating until after the holidays. Good news: During that time I will be working on a super-mega holiday stand-alone special, titled "Happy Holidays, PSA!" taking place not right now or soon afterwards in the story. Look for it around Christmas... or New Years, considering my inability to update on a set date :)**


	15. The Assignment

**Hello again, happy end-of-holidays. And we have some questions to answer...**

**Illyria: Memory! Get over here!**

**Memory: No.**

**Illyria: Why not?**

**Memory: You scare me.**

**Illyria: Shut up and tell Honeybee4Eva why you have your iPod even though it's not always playing.**

**Memory: See? This is why you scare me. Asking questions... *sigh* whatever. I do that so that people will not think that I am paying attention even though I am. So that they will talk as if I am not listening, so that I can listen. May I go now?**

**Illyria: Fine.**

**Memory: *runs off in fear***

**Illyria: Purplee Uzumaki, I'm not going to asnwer your question now, because I answered it in the chapter below. Now, Klutzy, Xandora wants to know if you think if Herbert is cool or lame.**

**Klutzt: *thinks deeply. Clicks hands***

**Illyria: Fascinating. And now I make this pre-chapter AN even longer than it needs to be, by letting a special guest on board. Emma2679?**

**Emma: *to Jetpack* ANSWER THE QUESTION!**

**Jetpack: I can't! *points to Illyria* She won't let me!**

**Emma: Fine! JEzzie, you answer it!**

**Jezzie: I can't!**

**Emma: SAY GOODBYE TO YOUR COUCH THEN!**

**Jezzie: NOOOOOO!**

**Illyria: And the final words before we get to it...**

**Emma: *Slaps Herbert with a fish* DO THE DISCLAIMER!**

**Herbert: Illyria Lives doesn't own anything except for Jezzie, Robinson, Memory, and Rookie's girlfriend.**

* * *

Jetpack sat across the table from Robinson, the old timer. Usually, Jetpack was on pretty good terms with the man in the fedora, but now they were both shooting daggers back and forth whern, somewhere, Rookie was getting his wounds stitched and resting. Jetpack didn't know why that was so wrong, or why that entitled him to an interrogation.

"You went against PSA orders, Guy." Robinson said.

Jetpack gazed at him silently.

"What do you have to say for yourself?"

Jetpack took a breath and looked his mentor right in his icy gray eyes. "The orders would have killed Rookie."

"Are you saying that you have no regrets?" his voice was rugged, filled with venom. Robinson, like Jetpack, was an Academy brat, and held the PSA code above everything else. To see another high up young agent such as Jetpack going against orders was unfathomable…

"I only regret that it took me so long to make the decision."

Robinson leaned away from the table and gave Jetpack an appraising glance. The boy surely had grown since his parents had gone MIA. From the frightened pale boy in oversized sunglasses to this… a defiant teenager, glaring from across the silver table, with glass in his hair, and blood staining his fingers. Robinson exhaled slowly, and lifted his hat to run his fingers through his salt and pepper hair. Maybe he was getting little too old for this…

Jetpack lifted and eyebrow, waiting for his punishment, imagining being stripped of his rank or being dishonorably discharged.

But instead, Robinson stood up, and paused just short of leaving. His hand on the doorknob, he turned slightly around to face Justin and said in a low voice: "You did good, kid. But the good guys don't always win."

With that heavy sentence polluting the air around him, Robinson left. Jetpack sat there, thinking this over, before leaving to get a few stitches in his abraded palms. It took his a while to find an open doctor, since most were hovering over Rookie and his girlfriend with injections of this and bandages for that. And even after he found a doctor, he made a few of the stitches too loose, and Jetpack had to bunker down in a supply closet to redo them. It hurt like an asterisk, and he had to bite down on a rag to keep from yelling. Despite the pain, he couldn't fight the overwhelming sense of success.

Whether or not he won, he'd never stop being a good guy. Never.

* * *

Deep beneath Club Penguin, Jezzie and Memory stood at the cusp of a huge, well-lit room that they both recognized as the Boiler Room. Memory made a note to gripe about how they could have just gone down through the Night Club.

Inside the room, there were rows upon rows of files for the Club Penguin Times, and the massive boiler that fed heat through vents to the lower half of Club Penguin. Next to the massive boiler, a tall man in a white coat with albino skin and hair was bent over a wired contraption. Beside him, a few yards away from where Jezzie and Memory hid, his strange drilling machine was Klutzy, who was sitting placidly by a tool box about twice her size. As Jezzie and her partner watched, she reached one delicate hand in and pulled out a huge wrench and gave it to him with barely a sound. Herbert took it without looking, and jumped when he saw what he had taken.

"Klutzy! I said monkey wrench! MONKEY WRENCH!" he threw the tool back in the box and groaned. "What good is a sidekick when they don't listen?"

Klutzy snapped her fingers angrily in response. Herbert snorted, and Jezzie took a step forward. "Herbert! Stop right now you son of an-"

Faster than you would think possible of a middle-aged man that was pushing seven feet, he was up and rushed at her, pinning her against one wall. His pink eyes were crazed as he added pressure to her neck. "You PSA brats! You don't know what it's like; staying up all night for your crazy parties! You don't even realize how long it's been since I've slept! So focused on keeping me out that you don't even realize…" his eyes flitted around as if he had said a bit too much, and was afraid of the repercussions. He leaned towards Jezzie, and she could smell the coffee on his breath. "I need my quiet. And I'm gonna get it." He let her go, and she hit the ground with a wheeze and a few good coughs.

"Jezzie!" Memory was quickly at her side, supporting her as she got up, watching Herbert go to his machine, flip a switch, and then scoop up both Klutzy and the tool box in his strong arms. He ran out into the corridor. Jezzie took a hold of Memory's shirt and pulled him close. From her bruised throat she hoarsely whispered.

"Get… Herbert… I've… Got… The…"

Bless his soul, he left before she even had to finish. Jezzie shuffled up to the bomb and peered at it with a hard stare, like it would just stop counting down on the LED clock from the force of her hate.

It continued to blink menacingly down. She had one minute.

"Okay. You can do this, Jez." She said aloud as encouragement. "It's just like that electronic lock that your landlord installed." She poked a thick bundle of wires hopefully. And then…

Nothing happened. She groaned. Where was Jetpack when you needed him?

Okay. Focus. Jezzie honed in on the bundle of wires again, and this time actually pulled a few. Same result. Thirty seconds. Think like the Jetpack… she frowned and glared, and with a raised eyebrow she yanked on the entire handful of wires. They came free, and the countdown stopped, with ten seconds to spare.

Jezzie let out a relieved sigh and smiled, before her ears could pick up the small metallic beeping still going strong. Jezzie spotted the huge wrench still on the ground, and, with no other options, picked it up and brought it down hard onto what looked like the most important part of the bomb. Weak metal dented, and glass something collapsed onto itself with a pleasant crunch. All sounds stopped, but Jezzie continued to smash, completely detaching the bomb from the boiler. When her tirade was done, Jezzie sat down, panting. If that bomb had gone off…

"Hey." She jumped, and turned to see Memory standing behind her. He too was panting, and covered in a coat of fine rocks and dust and sweat. Under one arm he held a huge gear. "He got away." Memory sighed, and sat down next to her. Jezzie felt a slight drop in her stomach at the news, but couldn't just sit around being afraid. She struggled to her feet, fearfully numb again, and went over to the staircase that would lead to the Night Club. Memory followed her. As they went up, Memory cleared his throat.

"Jezzie… you do realize that when we go to G about all of this, we will be in big trouble, yes?"

"Yes, Memory. I realized this."

Memory nodded with a blank expression. "And this does not worry you?"

"Oh, it scares the asterisk out of me."

"And yet we are walking right towards it…"

Jezzie stopped in her tracks and looked over at him, lagging behind, hugging his stolen gear to his chest. When he didn't respond to her "Are you kidding me?" look, she turned completely around to face him. "Rookie. Hurt. Bad. Remember?"

It took him a moment. "Oh, right! Rookie, hurt. Lead the way." He waved towards the far-off Sports Shop. Jezzie gave him a tired glare but let him be. She entered the HQ slowly, looking around for anyone that could potentially stop her. It was empty, so she made her way to the infirmary, bent over and trying her best to look inconspicuous. She failed entirely, and Memory took a mental picture to laugh at, at a later date.

The PSA infirmary was small, only equipped to treat two or three people at a time, so it was easy to find Rookie and Jetpack. The younger agent was sitting up in his bed, his arm held up in a wave to her. The entire limb, elbow to shoulder, was covered in hard green plaster. Jetpack, who was leaning back in his visitor's chair, looked over his shoulder to see Memory and Jezzie standing outside the room. He tweaked a tired smiled and waved them in.

Jezzie went and claimed the only other seat, on the other side of Rookie, and hugged him silly. "I'm so happy you're okay!" she gushed, and he laughed nervously.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Jezzie… I can't breathe."

"Oh. Sorry, Rooks." She let him go with an apologetic smile. He gave her a grimace in response and massaged his bruised ribs with his one good hand. Jetpack had his hands in his lap, wrapped in bandages. When he noticed Jezzie looking at them, he put them by his sides.

She looked up at his face, once again closed and unemotional. He raised an eyebrow. "You okay?"

"Yeah." She said quickly, trying to shake off the paranoid feeling creeping up her neck from what Herbert had said. Something of the crazed, desperate look in his eyes when talking about them looking in the wrong place. She knew that he was insane, but she never let it get to her the way it got to her now.

Jetpack's face told her that he didn't believe her for a second, but he let the subject drop when Memory gave a theatrical sigh and dropped the huge gear with a deafening slam. Everyone shot him a look, and he raised his hands in defense against the annoyed stares. "What? It was heavy."

"Is that what I think it is?" Everyone looked to the doorway. Memory took a step away from the scientist framed within it, moving behind Jetpack for protection. Justin stood up, as did Jezzie. Rookie shrunk back a bit into his pillows and comforted himself that he wasn't a part of this particular argument.

G didn't glare. He didn't yell. He simply stood there, looking over them, taking them in. He spent quite some time looking deeply at Jetpack, who refused to meet his gaze. Soon he passed over Memory's jittery face, glanced at the discarded gear, and finally settled on Jezzie.

"We… that is, the PSA, have been having some problems recently. And so… the Director is coming down to review our HQ, and attend the PSA ball." everyone was silent, and then Jetpack burst.

"What? The Director isn't supposed to reveal himself no matter-" he continued about how many rules and traditions this was breaking, and Memory joined in.

"Completely a disgrace to the PSA memory-" his French accented voice molded together with Justin's, and Rookie decided to jump in.

"Why are you telling us, for all you know there's a bug in this room-" G held up his hands for silence, and got nothing more than a volume increase. He quickly shut the door and held up his hands again.

Finally, Jezzie spoke up, her voice louder than everyone else's, and silencing everyone else's as they stared at her in shock.

Cupping her hands around her mouth, Jezzie asked "Who's the Director?"

"Who is the Director?" Memory exclaimed. "He-"

"Or she." Rookie reminded him, and proudly fist-bumped Jezzie for his equality-run young mind.

Memory waited patiently for them to be finished before continuing. "They are the person who runs the entire PSA." He said. "Rumor is that they do not even live on the island."

"Rumor is a lot of things, Memory." Jetpack reminded him, massaging his temples. "But it's not fact. Another rumor is that the Director is an immortal, celestial being that is having an affair with Sensei."

Rookie, who had not heard this particular myth, gagged.

"In short, the Director is the only person who knows everyone in the PSA." G said solemnly. "They personally control everything from payroll to recruits to the kind of coffee we drink. And they are coming. Tomorrow. And I want Squad Delta to protect them."

All of the teens in the room caught their breaths in their throats as the enormity of this task hit them full on in the face. They, after going against orders, were being given the most important job that a PSA agent could be given.

Jetpack was the first to find his voice. "I… I… don't get it." He looked around, like the answers were hidden around him in the crowded hospital room. "We went completely against your orders, almost got killed, let the bad guy go…"

"Not my fault." Memory broke in, offended. "That man is very, very fast."

Jetpack didn't react, only went on to beg G for answers with his eyes. "Why are you trusting us with this?"

G looked around at them. "Because you are the only people I _can_ trust. Something…" he scrunched up his face, pained at the very thought, and disgusted that he was about to admit it out loud. "Something is wrong in the PSA. I need you to protect the Director from anything that would happen, especially with e PSA ball coming up. I don't feel like anyone else would do the job as well as you four." His blue eyes were at their most serious. "It will be dangerous. Possibly deadly. But… I have no one else to go to."

Jezzie looked at her teammates, who all nodded at her with hardened expressions. She took a step forward and touched G's arm. "We'll do it."

He smiled sadly. "Thank you."

Hours after, when Jezzie had collapsed on her couch, with Jetpack on her floor, still vainly clutching the floor plans that they had been memorizing together when they finally slept. Rookie, after getting a short time visiting his just-a-friend (who only happened to be a girl, he kept on insisting to Jezzie, who had only grinned and said girlfriend with long rolling Rs), had also fallen asleep, his casted arm itching beneath her signed name. Hanna. Such a pretty name. And she had looped the end of her name in a little heart. But that didn't mean anything, he kept on telling himself. G wasn't asleep, being too worried over all the safety measures he had to throw together last minute, along with the final preparations for the PSA ball, an annual event for all active agents to meet and socialize with former agents. Memory was clutching his iPod as he walked around randomly, nodding to people he knew, too antsy to sleep, living in haunting memories of what had gone down in an underground tunnel with an albino psycho.

Hours passed.

And somewhere, someone touched a communicator to their lips and glanced around to make sure that they were alone. When they had no confirmed witnesses, they dipped their head down and clicked a button.

"I have confirmation on the arrival of the PSA Director, arriving tomorrow morning, oh-seven-hundred. Commencing tomorrow, oh-eighteen-hundred, the PSA ball will begin. Let nothing stand in our way to complete control. Insurgent Cerebrum over and out. Operation Villain has begun."

They slunk back into the shadows and resumed being a PSA Agent.

No one saw.

No one knew.

And by six o'clock the next night, someone would be dead.

* * *

**News: Starting sometime next week (or the next week) I will begin the Finale of Secret Agents Wanted. I will update it in several parts, once a week until finished. And once it's finished... you will probably all hate me. And plot twists. Just a warning.**


	16. The End I, Preparations

**Here we are, The End I, Preparations. The first in what will be wither the three or four or perhaps even five part finale for Secret Agents Wanted, what I consider my most successful fic. I want to thank everyone for all fo the support, and for sticking with me this long. Now, for pacing's sake, I won't be answerign any questions until the final chapter, after it ends. If you have questions after that chapter, I'll just reply with a message.**

**Now, speaking of questions...**

**Illyria: Rookie, why do you wear the propeller hat? spyroforeveh wants to know.**

**Rookie: I think that it's cool. And fun to wear.**

**Illyria: Okay. Now, I want to thank all fo the wonderful new people who reviewed to the last chapter. I was so excited to hear from new people (not that I don't like the regular people)! I shall now list the people that are my favorites for reviewing (aka all of them): Honeybee4Eva, spyroforeveh, Darth Kyotoa, Hopefully13, emma2679, Xandora, purplee uzumaki, Agent-Cecilia, GaryLover77, Tiger Phantom- I love Toothless, Carpathia Cadmen, S Lila 315. I cannot express how you all ecouraged me to keep writing. I am really grateful.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Club Penguin, only Jezzie, Memory, and my version of the Director.**

* * *

Jezzie woke up early to the sound of Jetpack trying to get his right shoe back from the clutches of Rocky. The black puffle in question had claimed the sneaker and was hunkering down behind Jezzie's dresser, knowing away. Jetpack was trying to reason with him so not to wake Jezzie with the sound of moving the huge piece of furniture. And he failed miserably as Rockafellow growled loudly.

"Rocky." Jezzie snapped her fingers. "Give." The puffle whined but darted out anyway, and dropped a soaking wet half of a shoe into her palm. He then stuck out his tongue at Jetpack and bounced back into his hiding place. Jezzie gave her partner back what was left of his shoe, and he took it with surprisingly little backtalk.

"What's up?" she asked him. He only shook his head and tried to walk out. She stopped him at the door and threw her arms out as a barrier. He could probably get past her before she could blink, but all he did was stand their silently and wait. She couldn't see behind his sunglasses, but she knew him well enough to know that at the moment, he was thinking, hard. So she waited out his thinking process.

Finally, he spoke. "This isn't right."

"I know."

"Everything is falling apart."

"I know."

Jetpack stood still with Jezzie one step ahead of him, a mile apart. She didn't offer any wisdom on how he was supposed to make peace with his mind knowing that the one stable thing in his life was suddenly corrupt and threatening the one person who had made the decision to keep him even after his parents had gone missing. She simply looked him at what she hoped was the eyes, and assured him that "We'll pick up the pieces. We'll figure this out."

He nodded silently, and she led the way out of her room and into the briefing room that G had assigned them for this mission. All of their usable information was spread out on the table, being looked over by Memory and Rookie. They glanced up when the two stragglers came in, and Memory angled a map in Jezzie's direction. "It is about time you two woke up. We were just going over the ball preparations."

Jezzie glanced at the map, and noticed something out of the corner of her eye. "So, the ball's happening at the Night Club?"

"Yes. The PSA has not enough open floor space for a dance floor." He explained, and to emphasize his point he found a floor plan for the PSA, showing off the small, cramped spaces. Jezzie nodded.

"We'll need to station someone there." She decided.

"Rookie." Jetpack said. "He'll fit in with the atmosphere. The PSA uses the Academy brats as waiters. He's a little old, but it'll work."

Rookie nodded. "Yeah, I did that last year."

"Okay. Rookie'll watch the crowd at the ball; guard the Director while they're there. Jetpack, I need you to take to the skies. How's your jetpack?"

Justin let loose a small smile at the anticipation of knocking on the sky again. "Fast."

"It'll ought to be. I want you running surveillance of the PSA, Night Club, and possibly the Cove, Docks, maybe the Lighthouse." Jezzie reeled off, and began marking spots on a map. Jetpack's eyebrows came together over his sunglasses.

"Why those last three?" he asked.

Jezzie shrugged. "Well, if the Director really is off-Island, then we should keep an eye on the major ports, in and out."

Jetpack nodded to himself. It made sense, and he berated himself a bit for not thinking of it in the first place. Jezzie turned to Memory, who snapped to attention.

"Memory, I want you stationed at the HQ Hub. Keep your eyes on the screens." He nodded. The Hub was the main room in the PSA, and had an entire wall of mounted screens that had eyes on the major points of the Island.

"What about you, Jezzie?" Rookie asked. Jezzie smiled grimly.

"I'll be the Director's guide." She said. "I'll stick with them the entire time, try and protect them."

They were all silent for a few moments, contemplating their various assignments. "Well." Jezzie said abruptly, clapping and rubbing her hands together. "Let's get to work."

* * *

Rookie was sweating buckets under the hat that hid his tell-tale Rochefeild hair. His glasses slipped a bit down his nose, and he pushed them up with a shaking hand. Lying while out in the field or when in interrogation the Academy encouraged; lying to your fellow operatives, however, was going against rule number one, one being the most important. If there wasn't trust in your team, then it wasn't a team.

But.

According to G, the voice of reason on the Island, the whole PSA was corrupt except for himself and Squad Delta. The very thought that someone walking calmly by him could be a traitor was unfathomable; he knew most of them!

_Okay, Tyler, _he reminded himself. _Just go in, and get fitted for a tux. No big deal. You can do this._

_No you can't. _A tiny little voice piped up. _Just because you wear sunglasses doesn't make you Jetpack._

_I don't _need _to be Jetpack. _He countered himself sternly. _I just need to keep my cool and get fitted for a tux._ He took a shaky breath and turned the corner, walking right into the lion's den- the corner of the PSA dedicated temporarily to outfitting the agents in the correct dress for the PSA Ball. He saw the waiting agent holding up a yellow measuring tape and he halted for a moment, his mind running away and screaming about insurgents and hidden weapons.

_Maybe being Jetpack right now isn't such a stupid idea after all_. He thought and took his first step forward, straight into the care of the waiting possible assassin.

He gulped down a lump that he didn't think could fit in his neck as the tape striped quickly down his legs and arms. The woman agent measuring him peered down at her quick notes. "You're a tiny little thing, aren't ya?"

_Don't freak out, don't freak out, don't freak out, dear Mod she's staring…_

"Um." Rookie said stupidly, and she took it as his way of saying "Yes, indeed, I am shorter than the average twelve-year-old."

Ten minutes later he claimed his tux and ran off to the training area for the servers, leaving a stream of confused people in his wake, wonder what had gotten into him to have him almost screaming in fear.

While Rookie was thinking about being Jetpack, Justin was thinking about being anyone else. To add to his killer "my life is a lie" headache, he was probably going to get a nasty sunburn on the back of his neck, bared to the sun while he struggled to comprehend the level of hatred the universe held for him.

The way his jetpack worked was simple to him, but complicated to everyone else. It ran not on gasoline or oil, but any kind of expansive gaseous liquid that he could get into the proper amounts for the stages- takeoff, flight, and landing. Each stage took a specific amount of fuel that was poured into the corresponding chamber that would then be heated when the ignition was activated. The chamber was put under pressure or heat, depending on the energy level in the battery, and the gas in the liquid expanded. When it expanded enough, it was released into a jet of pent-up gasses that could lift him off of the ground or keep him in flight.

Most people had to struggle to grasp this, but to him it was as easy as two plus two equaling four. G had called it a gift when he was just a cadet, blowing machines up in the Academy. But the gift didn't carry over onto the task of separating the right amounts of fuel for the three stages. He could recount the scars he got from the wrong mix of fuel in a matter of hours, even more if he counted the mental ones from falling thirty plus feet into pines trees or roofs.

He was kneeling on the snow of the docks, his jetpack open on the ground in front of him. He had calculated the wind speed and weather for the day and came up with the fact that this would be his optimal takeoff point… if only he could get the asterisked cream soda ready.

Now, was it two parts, four parts, one part; or was it four parts, one part, two parts? He groaned and poured everything back into the bucket of soda he had gotten from the lighthouse. He didn't have any of the special measuring tools he usually used; G had forbade him to take anything other than what he already had, lest his comings of goings with equipment look suspicious.

He tried pouring another part into the smallest cup to measuring it. It overflowed, and he growled, pinching the bridge of his nose and feeling his headache increase.

It wasn't helped by the fact that from behind him, a French accent broke into his thoughts. "Is something wrong, Jetty?"

Jetpack sneered. "Don't call me that." He said angrily.

Memory came around to face him from the front., so that Justin could see him shrug. "Sure thing. Is there anything that I can do to help, Jetpack Guy?"

"You can go away."

Memory pursed his lips in thought, peering at the buckets placed in front of his partner. "I believe that the combination for a limited ten minute flight is four, one, two. Do you wish to fly longer?"

"Shouldn't you be canvassing the PSA?" Jetpack snapped irritably, his headache spreading from the back of his neck to just above his ears.

Memory sat down, Indian-style, and watched as Jetpack filled up his jetpack with the correct amounts of soda. "I was on my way to my house to pick up the right supplies." He said, "And I saw you here, looking mad. And I wanted to know what was wrong."

"This whole mission is wrong." Jetpack grunted, heaving the heavy contraption onto his back and securing the straps. As he stood he swayed, a head rush coming on. Memory thought better of reaching out to steady him, and dug around in his pocket for a moment.

"Here." He said, handing over a small blue pill. "This will help your headache."

"I don't have a headache." Jetpack protested in his Jetpack like way of his, but nonetheless accepted the aspirin. He popped it dry and cringed at the taste. Memory raised a blonde eyebrow and let his fingers nervously check that his hair was still as spiky as ever, thinking over what to say.

"Do not worry." He finally said, just as Jetpack was about to take off. "I am sure that everything will end up fine. We will save the island and be heroes." A small smile flickered onto his face. "Will that not be nice?"

Jetpack let himself have a small apprehensive smile, remembering, faintly, that he had actually been Memory's friend back before he got annoying and his parents had gone missing.

Jetpack hit a switch and jumped into the air, his jetpack roaring to life.

Memory smiled, caught sight and Jezzie and G approaching from the Ski Village, and hurried into Town.

Jezzie stood at the docks alongside G, itchy in her borrowed dress, a must have for the PSA Ball, which the Director would be attending. A sleek black rowboat came through the foamy waves, approaching from the South-West. Jezzie ran her fingers through her blonde bob, which had been straightened out by a barber a few minutes ago, so that the fine hairs barely brushed her shoulders. When she was done with this and the nervous feeling in her stomach still hadn't gone away, she resorted to bending down making sure that her new leg braces weren't loose, and that the hinges by her knees would squeak when she walked. The braces had been G's idea, since her crutches were rather unwieldy. They were a bent silver metal, a bit dull, which G had insisted should match her dress, a stormy dray baby doll that she refused originally to wear. She had been outranked, and her small rebellion was a bright red sash around her middle.

The boat had finally come to the dock and stopped. From behind the wheel a tall, slim woman stood, and on rickety stiletto heels, came on shore. Jezzie had thought multiple times what the Director would look like, but she hadn't expected this.

The woman had unnaturally black skin, as black as tarmac, flat, no luster. Her nails had been done over with black nail polish, blending in with the rest of her fingers. Her hair was short, and slicked down to adhere to the curve of her head, which was rather small when compared to her height and her long neck, encased in the only color on her entire person- a thick, almost Egyptian, silver necklace, so shiny that it look like several diamond-shaped mirrors had been attached. Her dress was also black, and strapless, no ornaments to speak of. It barely brushed the ground when she walked, and Jezzie was beginning to doubt that it had any stitches in it.

The woman stepped up to her and extended her pitch-black hand. "Hello, Jezebel Swan." She had a deep, mannish voice that almost made Jezzie jump. "I am the Director."

Jezzie smiled faintly and returned the handshake. "It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am."

"Ma'am?" the deep voice scratched out a laugh. "No, I am not as I appear."

Jezzie's eyebrows came together. "I don't follow."

The not a woman smiled, showing off teeth that were the only white on her/his body, only with the whites of his/her eyes. "I wish to keep my identity a secret, so I had your man G make this for me." She gestured to the necklace. With one pointed finger she touched it, and a wave of black… _something_ seem to ripple under her skin, traveling down her arms and waits, and shivering down her legs, leaving behind a different body shape. Now he/she seemed to be a slim young man… in a dress, however. G smiled proudly as the Director changed back.

"It's my Morpheus Suit 2000." He said. "A shape-changing black suit that responds to the electrical signals in the necklace. Also changes voices."

The Director smiled and took Jezzie's arm, turning her in the direction of the Nightclub. "Shall we?" Jezzie nodded, her head whirling, and walked forward.

It was twelve o'clock. Six hours to go.

* * *

**Another change to my usual formatting: After each chapter, I'll be antagonizing you with an exerpt from the next chapter. So:**

**Next week, The End II: The Hunt**

Jezzie heard a beeping sound from her pocket, and her dark brown eyes darted around to make sure that no one would catch her answering her phone. he held the slim blue phone to her ear and whispered "Hello?"

"Jezzie!" Rookie's vocie was hard to miss, raised to a scream as it was.

"Rookie?" Jezzie gasped. "Rooks, talk to me! What's your status?"

"He's here!" Rookie shouted, and static overtook his yells for a moment. "He's here, Jezzie! What do I do?"

"_Who's_ there, Rooks?" Jezzie asked in a hushed frantic voice, plugging her other ear so to hear him better. She moved farther away from the dance floor. "Who's there?"

"Herbert-!" Rookie grunted, and she could hear the clack of his phone hitting the floor. Already she was running through the crowd, leaving the Director behind.

"Rookie? ROOKIE!" she shouted once she was outside, bolting to the Gift Shop. Her phone went dead for a few moments before it beeped again. Jezzie answered it breathlessly. "Rookie?"

"Jetpack." his voice was hard to hear, and a sharp whistling was in her ear, from the wind surrounding him in a pocket as he flew. "We have a problem."

"I know that!" Jezzie said, and pushed open the door to the empty Gift Shop, and paused in the doorway to let her eyes adjust.

"I mean that _I _have a problem." he clarified. "My jetpack's malfunctioning. I'm going down." his vocie was calm, accepting. Jezzie began to detect a bit of a slur on his tongue.

Jezzie had no response, so he continued. "I'll be hitting ground in apporximately one minute, over the Forest. I'm sorry..." his vocie faded, and she could hear the slow, even breathing of sleep. The phone, she could hear, fell through the air and hit the ground with a burst of static chatter and silence.

Her own phone soon followed as she was grabbed and pulled into the darkness.

Her scream was lost as a pill was forced into her mouth, melting away on her tongue, and carrying her away into sleep.

It was four o'clock. Two hours to go.


	17. The End II, The Hunt

**You will all hate me for this chapter, but it has to happen. Maybe I'll get my first flame :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own club penguin, only Jezzie, Memory, my version of the Director, and Cerebrum *wiggles eyebrows mysteriously***

* * *

Jetpack never really could keep his mind on work when in the air. The whistle of the wind in his ears, the brisk breeze that ruffled his hair… it all had a way of wiping all other thoughts of the world below him from his head.

In the sky above the Island, he slipped off his glasses and made sure to tuck them safely away in a time-practiced way: he would take his right hand from the controls, go into a brief glide, shove the folded glasses into the neck of his sweatshirt, and regain control, going up at such a pace that his glasses would slip down until they were safe at his waistband. Most of the other kids at the academy had found this storage method strange, but Jetpack didn't care. Now, to reclaim his identity, all he had to do was pull the band out and catch the glasses in his palm.

It was pretty fun, too.

His glasses away, he brought down the PSA spy goggles, giving him an instant focus on the ground. He could count the heads of Islanders going about their business, and he leaned his weight to the right to bank, and, in the middle of the thought process, he leveled out and simply glided for a moment, drifting peacefully until he hit a cloud. Instantly he was soaked all the way through, and he gasped, spitting out a mouthful of water that he had been close to inhaling. Someone, far below, got a very wet surprise dumped on their head.

Justin shook his head, flinging water droplets out of his hair, and banked again to the right, out of the way of any incoming clouds. His eyebrows came together, and he glanced at the controls. It hadn't been a machine malfunction; the stop had been completely mental. Jetpack glided around for a few more minutes, waiting. When the next wave of mindlessness hit him, he was ready, one hand at his neck.

He slowly felt himself refuse to touch the controls. His left hand slipped off the handle, and he glided without a motor for a few meters as he counted his pulse and then slapped himself with a sluggish, numb hand.

Fumbling, he took out his phone and dialed Jezzie's number. Something was wrong.

Something _was_ wrong.

Miles below, beneath the sky and the Jetpack and the ground, something was _very _wrong.

Agent Cerebrum, his brow slick with sweat from the heat of the old-fashioned torches on the wall, was standing before his leader, head bowed. Behind him, silent troops stood at statuesque attention, eyes fixated on nothing.

"This is a problem." The leader stated simply, and glared down Cerebrum, who squirmed slightly. "You were supposed to allow the Director to come without the protection of Squad Delta."

"It was an unseen obstacle." Cerebrum replied. "I was just as surprised to hear the news as you are."

"You were supposed to get the Director alone!" the leader hissed. Instead they have the best asterisking agents at her beck and call! Explain to me how we can get past this!"

Cerebrum allowed himself a small smile as again, he is proven to be smarter than his boss. He lifts his eyes from his shoes and blinks up at the leader, on his raised platform, and gives an innocent "I already took care of it."

The leader absorbed this slowly, nodding and sitting down at his desk. "Good. Good." He whispered, then sat back and propped his feet on the desk. "Has Herbert reported to you yet?"

"He is in position."

"Good…" the leader repeated, and trailed a finger down the side of his computer, flashing numbers and symbols out at him. "Everything is coming together. Soon, we will reach total control." He looked down at Cerebrum and his ready troops, easily spotting the two islanders, a male and a female, standing near the back.

"Ready the insurance." The leader said, dismissing his top agent with a flick of a hand. Cerebrum nods and makes his way to the man and woman, taking a hold of their arms just above the elbows to lead them into a different room.

Finally alone with his hundred or so soldiers, the leader smiles again at his computer screen, now showing three small green dots on a screen. One above the ground, and two in the town.

"We're almost there." He promised himself.

It was two o'clock. Four hours to go.

* * *

Jezzie stood by the Directors side silently; mentally berating herself for volunteering for the most boring job that she could have possible gotten. The Director never really acknowledged her after their first meeting, instead letting Jezzie shadow her steps and look subtly around, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious in the magically transformed Night Club. Instead of the usual bright lights and loud, beating music that hits you square in the chest, the lights were golden and low, reflecting off of polished silver and clear glass. The music was provided by Cadence, sitting pretty at a white piano on the stage. Jezzie noted with a smile that she had refused to dress up, wearing her torn and colorful outfit like a ball gown.

The director moved away from the group she had been entertaining, leaving all fo the agents in awe. Fighting the urge to face palm and or sigh dramatically, Jezzie followed, and lightly slipped her hand into her pocket to touch her phone, which should have been beeping as Memory or Jetpack noticed something odd. Or at least Rookie, panicking about something.

Speaking of Rookie…

Jezzie grabbed him by the back of his tux when he walked by, his tray of drinks held high. "Rookie," she muttered down to him, "I haven't gotten any reports from Memory or Jetpack. I just need you to take a peek outside and tell me if you see anything suspicious. Think you can do that?"

He gulped once, nodded, and quickly handed off his platter to another young agent. He scurried off into the crowd, adjusting his glasses, and Jezzie once again settled into silence.

* * *

_No need to think_.

No… no, he needed to think, to stay awake. Stay awake!

_Sleep… so nice, sleep…_

Don't sleep, Justin. You can't sleep up in the air.

_You are not in the air. You are in your bed, in your home, in your mother's arms, inside your head, your heartbeat rocking you away… _

That sounds nice.

_Sleep, Jetpack. Sleep and dream._

Why?

_Dream of what you want, what you need._

What I need… What do I need?

Stay awake. I need to stay awake.

_Release your hold and let your mind carry you off, all will be well…_

No.

_Yes._

No. I won't!

_Let your eyes close, dream of the future… dream of flying until the horizon is above you and below you. Dream of your parents._

He sees it before he can stop himself. His head takes one final slip forward and he is asleep, walking down a sidewalk, coming to his igloo, and opening the door. His mother is inside, opening her arms to him. His father stands beside her, smiling. Justin can no longer hold himself back, and runs to her, feeling her warm arms enclose around him.

_I am so happy to see you, Justin._

His father steps forward and adds his crushing strength to the hug.

_Close your eyes, Justin._

He does.

_Let go of your mind, Justin._

He does.

His parents continue to squeeze, until he cannot hear, or speak, or see. All he can do is hear, some hidden depths of his senses, talking to him, telling him something, a whisper of a forgotten dream. He tries to run, to get back, remembering a jetpack and a mission. He breaks from their arms to find that he falling, falling so fast he cannot breathe, and fights to open his eyes.

_Welcome home._

Jetpack woke up with a smothering yell, and discovered that he was no longer dreaming, but he could still feel the warmth and reality it coming on, from somewhere deep in his head. His hair whipped past his face, and it took his mind a second to become aware that he _was _falling.

_Falling._

His eyes flickered shut again, but this time he realized it in time, and he opened them. Still falling.

His right hand was numb, so he reached across with his left to grab the accelerator. One of his readouts on his goggles told him that he was low on fuel. Fighting against the cement in his muscles, Jetpack forced the toggle down, leveling him into a more or less decent glide. But he was still so low. He would never be able to reach a safe place to land. All he could do was pick out the softest piece of ground ahead of him, the forest, and pull out his phone.

* * *

Rookie stepped outside and shivered internally. Away from the crowd, the Town was eerily deserted, and the snow crunched like a detonating bomb under his shiny dress shoes. He first looked to the left, at the Coffee Shop, serving about four or five customers, and then to his right quickly.

Out of the corner of his eye, obscured by the red arm of his sunglasses, something moved into the shadow of the Gift Shop doorway. Counting that as suspicious, Rookie slowly approached the Gift Shop. He pushed open the door and saw that it was dark inside- a sign told him that it the Shop was supposed to be closed.

His first footstep creak, his second heartbeat jumped. His eyes adjusted to the darkness and he saw the outline of a very tall, very pale man sitting on a chair beside the vault. Herbert lifted one hand and brought it down on a remote held firmly in his other, and the door behind Rookie slammed. The lock clicked into position.

Rookie took out his phone.

* * *

Jezzie heard a beeping sound from her pocket, and her dark brown eyes darted around to make sure that the engrossed Director wouldn't notice her chatting. She took out her phone, flipped it open, and pressed it to her ear.

"Hello?" she whispered.

"Jezzie!" Rookie's voice was hard to miss, and it neared a frighteningly crescendo at the end of his outburst. Jezzie could hear wood creaking around him.

"Rookie?" she gasped. "Rooks, talk to me! What's going on?"

"He's here!" Rookie shouted, and she could detect him scrambling away quickly from something. "He's here, Jezzie! What do I do?" Jezzie opened her mouth to answer, but she was cut off by Rookie screaming "Get away fro me!"

"_Who's _there, Rooks?" Jezzie asked in a hushed frantic voice, plugging her other ear so to hear him better. She moved farther away from the Director. "Who is it?"

"Herbert-!" Rookie grunted, and she could hear the clack of his phone falling to the floor. Already she was running through the crowd, bolting for the door.

Once she was outside, her long legs carried her to the Gift Shop, all the while with her throat screaming out "ROOKIE!"

Her phone beeped in her hand. Breathlessly, she stopped right outside the Gift Shop and answered it "Rookie?"

"No. Jetpack." His voice was hard to hear, and a sharp whistling was in her ears, the sound of wind whipping past him, miles away. "We have a problem."

"I realize that." Jezzie snapped, and paused in the entrance of the Gift Shop to let her eyes adjust.

"I mean that _I _have a problem." He clarified. "I can't… my jetpack is malfunctioning. I'm going down, over the Forest." His voice was calm, even serene, and a thick slur began to form over his words. Jezzie had no response to his statement, so he continued. "I'll be hitting ground in about a minute. I'm sorry…" he trailed off, and she could hear the deep, easy breathing of sleep. The phone she could hear falling away, and a burst of static chatter as it shattered on the ground.

Her own phone soon followed it as she was grabbed and pulled forward, into the darkness. Her scream was lost as a pill was forced into her mouth, melting away on her tongue and carrying her away into sleep.

It was three o'clock. Three hours to go.

* * *

The first thing Jezzie felt was pain in her wrists, somewhere over her head. The first thing she heard was Jetpack muttering and clanking his chains. The first thing she saw was a single torch mounted on the opposite wall. Leaning against the wall beneath it was a familiar man with spiked yellow hair and a loose Blue Team jersey.

"…Memory?" Jezzie muttered, and looked around; she was chained to a wall, her wrists held up by metal cuffs. Jetpack was on her right, his head rolling around and his arms flinching. Rookie was held a few feet off the floor on her left. Her head swam and her stomach turned. She shook her head to clear it and honed in on Memory again. Beside her, Jetpack straightened and also looked on in bewilderment at their teammate.

"Memory? What are you doing?" she finally asked.

Memory scoffed and took a step forward, playing with a ring of keys in his hand. "Really." He scoffed, his French accent completely gone. "You didn't see this coming? I did." He smiled grimly. "Come on; tell me that you saw this coming."

Jezzie couldn't say that she did, but it slowly came to her, and to Jetpack, who was slowly panting harder and faster, straining against his chains.

A blue sleeping pill cupped in an open palm. A man with arms outstretched, keeping G from knowing how much Herbert had told Jetpack, a gear held from limp fingers, a story of a running man that got away, a tale of how no one could get into the Boiler Room, a simple request: split up Jetpack and Jezzie, the pair that could become the biggest obstacle for the enemy if they remained a team.

A false smile and a false accent hiding true intentions.

Memory grinned, watching the faces of his teammates transform as they realized how many lies they had been told, how many things that they had allowed the enemy to know, just how deeply the PSA had been corrupted.

"Now, that's more like it." Agent Cerebrum said. Memory said. The one person that had betrayed them all said.

He tilted his head back and laughed.

* * *

**Oh, yes, I've been planning this for quite a while :) I am sooooo evil :) Review with your various thoughts/reactions/exclamations of disbelief :)**


	18. The End III, Reunion

**Thank you for all of the reviews! Memory, the asterisking psychopath, much enjoys your hate :) But I have to outdo myself with twists in this chapter, so, buckle your seatbelts! THis chappie's gonna be a crazy one!**

**JetpackGuy/Jezzie shippers, this is for you!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Club Penguin**

* * *

At this point, Jetpack threw himself forward, and began hollering at the top of his lungs that Memory wasn't going to survive the night, that his mother was hideous, that he deserved to spend the rest of his life somewhere very uncomfortable, all in terms that surely had his throat setting on fire.

Memory smirked and leaned back against the wall, taking it all in. Once Jetpack had settled back, panting and bleeding slightly from abrasions on his wrists, he spoke.

"You finished?"

"Why?" Jezzie croaked out.

"Why?" Memory repeated, and waltzed forward. "Why what, exactly?" he put on a fake pout and leaned his weight on one leg, imitating Jezzie's usual way of standing. "Why would anyone betray poor, innocent Jezebel's trust? I'll tell you why, sweetheart. Because you PSA agents run around, talking about keeping things safe, and yet…" he gestured to himself and the entire cave. "You seem to be doing a pretty asterisky job of it. The real way to keep people safe is to take things seriously. And that's what we plan to do, once we get the Director to send out a broadcast, telling all PSA agents to submit to our…_ detailed _instructions. That answer your question?"

"No." Jezzie said, her voice faint. Memory patted her cheek in fake sympathy.

"Don't worry, doll face, everything's gonna be great, with you and Jetty here out of commission." He sighed and crossed his arms, retreating a few paces. "Now, this brings us down to the nitty gritty, here. You have two choices here, door A and door 2. With door A, you hang out here until the hole deal goes down, then you're free to scurry away, heads down, and become ordinary citizens."

Jezzie and Jetpack gave him equally defiant looks.

"That's what I thought, but my employer seems to think that you'd rather do that than go through door 2. With that particular… hey, Rookie! Glad to see that you're awake!"

Rookie looked around, a green tinge on his face, and vomited. Memory clicked his tongue. "I told Herbert to only give you one pill. Oh, well. What's a little nausea, temporary blindness, fatigue, and a possibility of high blood pressure? Speaking of side effects, how'd you like yours, Jetty?" Memory grinned sardonically. "I made it specifically for you. Taps into the cerebrum, where memories are stored, especially repressed memories. I wish I could've seen your face."

Memory waited for a response, and got nothing but deadpan. So he shrugged and got back on track. "Anyway- door 2 involves you serving us as Moderators, you know, keeping the Island safe from idiots and all that."

"Never." Jetpack hissed, and Jezzie held onto a grim silence, agreeing with him.

Memory laughed, a laugh that Jezzie had started to hate with all of her might. "We thought that you might say that, Jetty. So I've got a little questionnaire for you. Who do you admire most? Who, in your eyes, can do no wrong?"

Jetpack was silent. Memory tusked and walked up to him, getting right in his face. "Come on, Jetpack. Tell me. Say it." He whispered, and Jezzie glanced the crazed mind that he worked under. He slightly slapped Jetpack's cheeks, trying to get him to talk. "Please, Jetpack, just say something. I'm getting bored, and trust me; you don't want to see me when I'm bored. Just a few little words…" he mouthed them too, just in case Jetpack didn't catch on.

Finally realizing that it was better for him to let in, Jetpack ground out the words "my parents."

Memory smiled. "Your parents. Do you remember what they look like, Justin? Or have you forgotten? Forgotten the way they talk, the gleam in their eyes? Can you see them, in your mind, Justin? Can you?"

Jetpack wouldn't give him the satisfaction. So Memory took it, by looked over his shoulder at the entrance to their cave and calling out, "Come on in."

Two people walked into what light there was, and Jezzie got a good look at them; both where pale, but the man had a spattering of freckles across his straight, high nose, on which there was a pair of sunglasses. His hair was pitch black, save for the twin gray streaks at his temples, and straight, hanging just long enough to touch his shoulders. He had one arm around a woman just shorter than him, with tan, pale brown hair, combed back into a bun. Her bright green eyes glowed when she looked at the remains of Squad Delta, particularly the boy in a bright red sweatshirt.

With the faintest hint of an English accent, she said "Hello, Justin."

Justin's face was impassive, even as he said the two most impossible words that Jezzie would ever hear.

He said, "Hi mom."

* * *

Ten years. Trickling by in a cloud, the only thing in his mind a bright smile and a voice that he had ceased to remember.

Ten years stopped being ten years when she spoke.

"Hello, Justin." She sounded sheepish, like she was apologizing for coming home late. His mind was blank, no reaction, and the words that left his mouth sounded foreign and alien to him.

"Hi, Mom." He could hear Jezzie gasp. He had no response.

His father smiled, and chuckled lightly. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

Jetpack didn't care if they were his asterisking parents. He didn't care how long he waited for them. He wouldn't blink and eyelash if they died right here, in front of him.

Ten years.

Ten years waiting for his heroes, for his real, truthful parents, the best agents in the PSA, to return. And now this. He got them back, as traitors and backstabbers, hiding from him all these years. He didn't care how much of a hypocrite he was; he hated them for it.

"Too long." He heard himself say in a dark, grating voice. "Where were you?"

"We were here." He mother said simply, gesturing to the cave. "Saving the Island."

Jetpack could feel his empty laugh shake his chest in response to his mother's sentence. "Saving the Island? How, by trying to destroy the PSA, the one and only thing that I've ever known-!" his voice had risen to a scream, and he would have continued raising it if he hadn't felt the lightest touch on his hand. He paused, and let the realness of her touch calm him down.

His parents stared at him with injured eyes. His father pressed his lips together. "Well." He said simply. "You'll come around soon." He turned around on his heels, and his mother followed him out, glancing over her shoulder at her lost and empty son. She didn't say anything.

"Well. Wasn't that fun? A family reunion!" Memory cawed happily once a silence had fallen.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" Surprisingly, the one to speak was Rookie, now looking considerably less green.

Memory leaned against the wall and propped his feet up on a rock, his hands behind his head, still holding the keys to their chains. "I'm a psychopath." He stated simply. "I don't feel sympathy with humans, so I don't feel guilty for lying, backstabbing, ex cetra. So, to me, all of you are just my little playthings. How does that make you feel?" Memory asked.

No one answered.

He shrugged again. "So, I'll just leave you to your decision making. Remember: Door 2 equals parents and answers, door A equals nada." He got up and walked out, shooting a serious glance back over his shoulder at them. "Don't try anything." He reminded them.

Once the sound of his footsteps was gone, Jezzie coughed modestly. "Jetpack… do you…?"

"Not now." He said harshly. "Right now we need to get out of here."

Jezzie nodded. "I have a plan, but it's a bit risky. Untested."

Jetpack smiled without warmth. "My favorite kind of plan."

* * *

The Director lightly touched Robinson's shoulder. He turned to look at her, his furrowed brow hidden beneath the brim of his fedora. G, who had been chatting with him about the new technology of transportation via molecular scrambler.

The Director whispered in his ear "it appears that my young friend has gone amiss. Where could she have gone?"

G coughed and tried to shuffle Robinson away, out of earshot, but the older agent simply scoffed. "You really think I don't know about the security breach? Please. I know where she's gone off to. I'll find her."

Before G could protest, he was already gone.

* * *

"You got it?"

"I'm getting it."

"Be careful."

"I am!"

"And keep your voice down!"

Jetpack bit his lip and ignored Jezzie as she flipped herself, gripping her chains for support, looking like she was sitting on the wall with her legs straight out in front of her. She was at the perfect height for his hand to reach into her dress pocket and pull out her spy phone. One loose finger and their way out could end up on the floor, out of reach.

"Rookie, grab my hand." Jezzie ordered, and he complied. "Jetpack, hold down the call button for five seconds and then grab my hand, without dropping the phone. Got it?"

"Stop nagging." He muttered, and had finally managed to get the phone out and flip it open. He held down the button as she insisted, and gripped her hand.

"Get ready…" She muttered, and he felt a sharp prick in his hand, the center of his palm. He cursed, and Jezzie sucked a sharp breath as the skin beneath his grip also was affected. Rookie squeaked when it was passed onto him.

A worse feeling followed, a buzzing and vibrating that set his teeth on edge and made his eardrums burst. He tried to hold back his screams as his bones creaked and were twisted, and he could hear Jezzie struggling with her own silence.

Rookie, however, let loose a bloodcurdling cry just as they slipped free of their chains in a million pieces and flew across the sky, and into the Pizza Parlor. Jetpack's last view of the cave was Memory, rushing down the hallway, fury in his features.

They were all sitting at a table, menus opened and glasses full of water. A waiter, one of the most versatile people on the entire Island, brushed off their sudden appearance as a normality for table seven, and asked them all if they were ready to order.

"No, thanks." Jezzie said after a while. "Can we have a few more minutes?"

"Sure." The waiter walked off.

"What was that?" Jetpack asked in a hushed tone, leaning forward over the table.

"Transportation." Jezzie said shortly. "New science that G was working up before the mission. He put some on my phone in case of emergencies."

Jetpack ran his fingers through his hair, swearing that he would never, _ever_ use that stuff again. As he looked up at the ceiling and tried to process that he had just met his parents, he was slapped in the face with the realization that the door had opened, showing a panting and rushed looking Memory, having sprinted the entire way from the cavern to the shop. He ducked in, looked around for them, and then leaned against the wall to catch his breath, taking another, closer, look at the people sitting around the tables.

"Jezz, Memory's here." Jetpack said in a hushed voice.

"Asterisk." She muttered. "Has he seen us yet?"

"No, but if we move he will. And if we stay here, he _will_." Jetpack muttered, trying to keep his voice low and his lips from moving. He kept his eyes on the table in front of him, pretending to look at his menu.

"What's worse?" Rookie was sweating like crazy, and his arms and legs were shaking like leaves in a hurricane. "Will, or _will_?"

"They're both bad." Jetpack elaborated, "But _will_ is just pathetic."

Jezzie got an idea, no doubt brought on by the lingering transportation serum in her veins, and quickly acted on it while she still thought that it wasn't that bad. "Rooks, get under the table."

He did as he was told, taking his menu and glass of water with him to erase all signs that a third person had been there. Jetpack looked up at Jezzie, surprised at her order, and was met with a surprise.

Jezzie started kissing him.

_Jezzie_ _started kissing him._

It took him several moments to realize that her lips were against his, and her hands were on his face, and that this was wrong and probably against every rule on conduct in the PSA handbook, and… and…

And. He didn't care.

He sank into the kiss, and realized that the reason that she was kissing him was to hide his face from Memory with her hands. _But what about her?_ A voice reminded him, and he moved his own hands to cup her cheek, obscuring it from view.

She was kissing him.

And he kissed her back.

It was four o'clock. Two hours to go.

* * *

**You're welcome :) Instead of a preview, I will tell you that a new character will be joining the sequel. Name: Adam Libson, aka Libby, aka Adlib, aka Annoying Southern Guy. Discuss.**


	19. The End IV, Boom

**Hello, Dear Readers. It is my unbounding pleasure to bring you the second-to-last chapter of Secret Agents Wanted (Finally!)**

**I would like to thank everyone who has stayed with me, still reading, up to this point. You people are incredible.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Club Penguin, only Jezzie, Robinson, and Memory.**

* * *

Memory rescanned the room, getting his breathing back to normal after his long sprint, and found nothing unusual, other than a couple making out at a middle table. Sneering at them to get a room in a low voice, he headed back out into the cold.

He was almost out of time.

Jezzie and Jetpack Guy parted when Rookie began coughing loudly, like he was trying to forcibly remove his lungs. Jezzie blushed when she realized that he was trying-and failing- to hide laughter behind the rough, guttural noise. Hiding her blush beneath a sheet of chopped blonde hair and not quite meeting Justin's eyes, she bent down to look under the table.

"What's so funny?" she hissed. Rookie chuckled and simply shook his head. Jezzie glared and straightened nervously to look at Jetpack.

Impassive. Stoic. He simply coughed modestly into his palm and straightened his sunglasses. "Um," He said.

"Um," Jezzie repeated.

Rookie snorted. Jezzie aimed a kick under the table.

"We should… go," Justin finally said. Jezzie rubbed her palm awkwardly across the back of her neck and nodded. They pushed their chairs back and stood up simultaneously, each burning a different shade of crimson. Rookie scrambled up also, a goofy smile on his smug little face; Jezzie summoned up one final warning glare and Jetpack just emanated a silent order to remain quiet, or die. They trooped in a line outside, and they all stopped short when they saw a large white sheet stretched between two poles. A large metal box projected light onto it, forming the shape of a large albino man, a darker silhouetted man behind him, arms crossed over a large barrel chest. Several other Islanders stopped to stare at the strange device, unsure of what was about to happen.

What happened stopped Jezzie's heart cold.

Robinson's rumpled suit-covered bulk filled the screen, his fedora drooping over his brow and hiding his eyes from view.

"He followed you, Jezzie. Old gramps here has it in his head that you needed help." Memory's smug voice blasted from unseen speakers, and he moved slowly into the shot, grinning. "Quite a table turn, isn't it?" he cooed. "You have a choice Jezzie. It's between the man who helped you into the PSA, who guided you into your new life, to whom you owe _everything…_" his smile burned from the projector. "Or between the PSA itself." A small timer appeared in the bottom right corner, counting down from 2 hours.

Memory sat back, and began rubbing his thumb across the brim of Robinson's hat, slowly, cautiously. For a moment he seemed engrossed with the movement, and then, with a start, remembered his purpose. He looked right at the camera. "There is a bomb, cleverly designed by myself, hidden inside the HQ—"

"We have to cut off that sound," Jetpack hissed urgently. "He'll blab the location to everyone here."

Rookie was already on it.

He was kneeling in the snow by the metal box, peeling the sheet metal off with his cell phone tools, and he looked at the radio location inside. "It says that the feed's coming from the…" his eyebrows drew together in confusion. "The fields outside of the mines? That can't be right…" he continued to poke and prod before looking up helplessly to his two partners. His eyes reflected what he knew was coming next, and what was probably the last thing in the world he wanted to hear.

"We need to split up," Jetpack said darkly, gripping his fists.

Jezzie nodded. "I'm going to go after Robinson—"

"No," Justin cut her off. "It's too dangerous."

Jezzie glared up at him. Didn't he think that she could handle it? "I'll be fine, Justin, I swear—"

"No," he said again. "I'm going with you."

"No," Jezzie threw back at him. "You're going to go diffuse the bomb in the HQ." He opened his mouth to disagree, again, only to have Jezzie hold up her hand for silence. "You like logic," she said evenly. "Well, here's some for you. You are the only one of us three who can diffuse bombs. I am the one that Memory and Herbert want back down in the mines. From there I can get to the corn field and shut down the transmitter. Conclusion: We split up, and I go after Robinson. Deal?"

He seethed for a moment before hanging his head, defeated.

Rookie stood up from the snow, looking small and frightened. "What about me?" he asked.

Jezzie thought for a moment. "Bring G up to speed, and try and get him to help Justin in the HQ. Alright?" she tried to sound encouraging, and Justin placed one hand on the younger agent's shoulder. Rookie nodded, looking grim, before diving into the overflowing PSA party, on route to G.

Justin looked one last time at Jezzie, his expression unreadable. "Be careful," he said in a low voice, and then took off at a run to the HQ.

Jezzie pressed her lips together and nodded, even though she knew that he could not see her. "You too," she said to the wind, and started off to the entrance to the mines.

* * *

Jezzie was in darkness.

After their escape, the torches had been all extinguished, and she had to use the dim light from her cell phone to guide her over unsteady rocks and through small, roughly-cared passageways. Her leg braces gleamed in the half-light, and squealed slightly whenever she bent her knees.

She had tracked down the precise location of Robinson from the information on the projector, and her GPS informed her that she was mere yards away. She decided to risk speaking.

"Robinson?" she whispered. The walls of the cavern threw her voice back at her, mockingly faint. _"Robinson… Robinson…"_

"Jezzie?" a rough voice coughed from somewhere to her left.

She whirled around, flashing her weak excuse for light into the spot where the voice had emanated. She nearly sighed with relief, seeing the old timer sitting up against the cavern wall, the only thing keeping him down a thick twisting of rope that was easily severed by her phone-scissors.

"You know that this is a trap, right?" he asked, strangely blasé about the entire situation. Jezzie nodded and helped him to stand. "Then why did you come?" he asked, in confusion. "The PSA doesn't order rescue parties…"

"Remember?" Jezzie asked, eyes shining. "No sacrifices, when you work with me." He seemed rather taken aback by this statement, and a similar teen with bright green eyes was brought into his mind. They did make a good team, he thought. He gave Jezzie a smile that was quickly lost as he looked over her shoulder. "Look out!" he shouted, shoving her aside in time to give Herbert a fist to the face.

The albino man reeled back, dropping the bat that he had been about to smash into Jezzie's skull. Blood dripped down his ice-white nose and he scowled.

He rushed forward, ignoring Jezzie, nursing a heavily bruised elbow on the ground several feet away, and slammed his fist into Robinson's stomach. The elderly man bent over double, unable to breathe, and Herbert held up his fist, about to smash it into Robinson's exposed back.

Jezzie got there first.

She swung the discarded baseball back into Herbert's shoulders, making him pitch forward, into the wall, after which he didn't stir. Robinson dodged, breathing heavily, and grabbed Jezzie's by the arm. "Let's go!" he shouted, and she ran after him, into the dark depths of the caverns.

"Why. Are. We. Running?" she panted several identical passageways later.

"Herbert's too strong," Robinson replied. "And we need to find a safe exit." He turned sharply and headed down another corridor. The two fleeing agents stopped short once they slammed into a wall of bright firelight.

Blinking back tears, Jezzie and Robinson entered a large, cathedral-like cave, the roof of which was in shadow, far beyond the reaches of the thousands of torches strapped to the walls. Alone, in the center of the room, sat a plain white computer on a simplistic wooden desk.

Robinson circled it warily before powering up the monitor. "Maybe there's a map on here somewhere…" he muttered, and Jezzie watched his fingers typing quickly from behind him.

"What's that?" she asked, pointing to a file marked 'Moderator Takeover'. "I think that Memory said something about moderators when he had us captive," she explained. Robinson abandoned his search for a map and clicked on it, equally curious. He scrolled though the long chain of gibberish too quickly for Jezzie to read clearly.

"Oh my Mod," Robinson whispered in awe. "Jay, get your phone out."

"But why—"

"_Now._"

Jezzie flinched at the iron in old Robinson's voice and dutifully handed her cell phone over. He connected it to the computer with a thin wire, and began dragging around some of the documents in the Moderator file, storing them on her phone. "This explains everything," he said. "The missing agents have been corrupted by a mental stimulation, coming from a rouge computer program. Their minds were integrated into the machine and controlled…"

Jezzie placed a hand on the excited Robinson's arm. "English, please."

Robinson straightened and turned to face her, his steely gray eyes alight in fascination. "The agents of the PSA are the most highly trained operatives on the island," he said, "And so they were captured, one by one, and made to become an army of slaves, all controlled by a central control unit and used for their own sinister purposes."

Jezzie felt her jaw open in shock. Robinson was talking brainwashing and mind control_._ The missing agents had all been made to follow the orders of whatever madman had designed the computer program. And that meant…

"Justin's parents…" she said in a small voice, "Aren't here of their own free will?"

Robinson's silver eyebrows furrowed. "His parents are here?"

Jezzie nearly pushed him aside to look at the status bar on the download screen, searching in the Moderator files for any name to put to the actions that she had seen. It hadn't been Memory, Herbert wasn't smart enough… the files were long and intricate, and Jezzie's computer skills added up to about nothing, so it was slow going. Along the way, she filled Robinson on everything that had gone on in the caves. When she was done, he whistled softly.

"You kids have been busy, haven't you?" he asked in a quiet voice.

Jezzie flashed a triumphant smile over her shoulder at him.

He was about to return it when his eyes caught something in the shadows behind her. They grew wide for a fraction of a moment before he, for the second time that day, shoved her roughly to the ground.

There were three flashes of light from the shadowed hallway where Herbert was crouching, and the computer screen shattered, sending Jezzie's phone flying away, to be crushed on the rocky floor.

Robinson slowly fell backwards.

* * *

Jetpack Guy fell backwards.

As soon as he had put one foot inside the HQ's main briefing room, where his instruments informed him the bomb was hiding, he was punched in the face, and fell back against the wall, shocked.

Memory drew his fist back with a smug grin, showing off his gleaming teeth. "Been waiting for you, Jetty," he said in a light, mocking voice, and struck again, only for his eyes to widen in shock.

Jetpack held his fist in his hand, slowly crushing his fingers and blood dripping down his face from his nose. "Good," he said, and nearly threw Memory across the room, slamming him up against a flat screen TV, which shattered on the point of impact, raining down glass and a battered Memory onto the frayed carpet.

Jetpack looked around, and saw that when Memory said the bomb was "cleverly disguised by myself" he really meant "lying on a table where everyone can see it". He started for the bomb, seeing the timer slowly click down, giving him five minutes. That was plenty of time.

Memory had picked himself up from the floor and held out his hands. "What?" he asked. "That's it? You have me at your mercy, and that's it?"

Jetpack looked over his shoulder at the bruised psychopath. "What more do you want?" he asked harshly, and hoped that Memory would reply, "A broken face."

"The question here," Memory rallied, "Is what you want, my old friend." He pointed at Jetpack's chest, right above his heart. "Anything you want, my associates and I can provide. Information, power, security…" a fire lit up in his eyes as he suddenly placed the dark hair of his friend to the dark-haired man he had seen at the Pizza Parlor. "…Jezzie?"

Jetpack gripped the front of Memory's shirt in his fist and used it as leverage to get a good punch into Memory's mouth. His front teeth split the skin of his knuckles, but he didn't mind. He welcomed the pain, so easily placed, over the other storm of emotions that were flooding through his body.

Memory, still in Justin's grasp, smiled. There was blood on his teeth. "Have I struck a nerve, Jetty?" he jeered. Then he pursed his lips and nodded. "I can understand it, though. Without Jezzie, you are alone. You are unloved. You are dust on the wind."

Jetpack tried to shut him out as he again slammed him into the ground and turned to the timer. Three minutes to go. Still doable. But, the words still echoed in his head, no matter how hard he tried to clear it.

_No, _he told himself, _I am not alone. I am not alone._

"You know," Memory said from the floor, striking a pose with his head propped in his hand, "Right now, you are saving the very people who made you the way you are." The sentence was made to shock, and it did. Jetpack turned on his heels and silently asked for elaboration, which Memory gleefully provided.

"The PSA. They made you a perfect soldier. You followed orders. You kept all the rules. You were their lapdog, and how did they repay you? They let your parents come to us. Now, that doesn't seem very fair to me."

"They didn't let my parents get captured," Jetpack said, more to himself than to the smirking Memory. "They didn't."

"No search parties were sent out," Memory pointed out.

Jetpack growled in frustration and turned to the machine. Two minutes left. He could do this, if he could only get asterisking Memory out of his mind. It was all a distraction. He just needed to focus.

"They could have saved them, if they had believed that my boss was a threat," Memory intoned, still lying on the floor, fingering some shards of glass. "But, that isn't the PSA way, using violence to stop violence. Disappointing, right? It might even be worth punishing."

Jetpack began to open the bomb's covering, looking for the proper wires.

Memory continued. "And what is the result? A boy left without parents, without love, unable to feel." He chuckled coldly and stood. "On that note, Justin, I guess that you and I aren't that different."

Justin turned, a sharp negative on his tongue and was struck on the face with a shard of glass. It wasn't a stabbing blow, leaving only a heavy scrape across his left cheek.

As Justin felt the warm blood trickle down his face, everything seemed to stop.

The bomb was still, and air was solid around him, and all that Jetpack Guy could see was Memory's face. Memory was right. They were not that different.

He had been pushing everything aside in his quest to become the best agent in the PSA, feeling like it was his duty to serve them, in hope that he could please them, to thank them for taking him in after his parents were gone. But, it was their fault. They drove his parents to the side of evil. They had made him the way he was.

Eighteen years of emotion was welling up inside of him, and he could not stop it. All of his ignored frustrations. All of his forgotten dreams. All of his missing experiences. He felt them come, and took a hold of them.

They were in his fist as he drove Memory back. The ex-agent's surprise at such a vicious onslaught was clear on his face, punch after punch. Justin was not driving back at him alone, he was beating into everything that had stood in his way, all of this time. Memory was just a representation of the enemy. He was Herbert, keeping his parents hostage and twisting them to evil, he was the PSA, unable to go against code and save them, he was G and his fatherly attempts to keep Justin in society, he was Robinson and his conformist agent rules that begged to be broken, he was the Director, keeping the truth away from him in an attempt to keep a perfect agent.

Jezzie's face flashed into Jetpack's mind, and he slowed. She had no ulterior motive. She was not inhibiting him. She had been the light at the end of the tunnel, and he had to admit that kissing her was now the only thing in his life that he did not regret.

Finally, Justin was empty.

Memory was in a battered, bleeding heap on the ground, shuddering and wincing, and Justin stood over him, knuckles bleeding and scraped, chest heaving in an attempt to catch his breath.

"I am not like you," Justin growled. "I still hope that things can get better. I can still work to help others. Get one thing straight: Just because I hate the PSA does not mean that I'm ever one of yours."

Memory looked up, through swollen black eyes. "Jolly for you," he said, spat out what looked like a tooth, and then jumped up with speed that Justin had though impossible for an injured man, and fled out the door. It shut behind him with a click, indicating that Justin was now locked inside.

He removed his sunglasses and heard them hit the floor. He made sure to step on them as he walked up to the bomb.

Ten seconds left.

Jetpack closed his eyes and looked away.

* * *

Across the island, all clocks struck six.

_Boom._

* * *

**Now, to cancel all worries, I _will _update after this. The last chapter is already written, just waiting for some reviews before I post it.**

**So... please review?**


	20. The End V, Farewell

**Well, this is it. This is the final chapter of Secret Agents Wanted. I would like to thank everyone who stuck with me up to this point, and I cannot describe how proud I am to finally stamp 'Completed' on this, my oldest and most popular fanfiction.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing save for Jezzie, Robinson, and Memory.**

* * *

It was six o'clock.

Jezzie was screaming.

Her cries echoed and thrashed around her in the large stone cavern, assaulting her ears and deafening her to any other sound. Eventually her voice cracked and ran out, leaving her alone, throat straining for sounds that would never come, in silence.

Her heart was in her throat as she crawled over on her hands and knees, afraid that if she raised herself up farther she would be a target for Herbert and his weapon which she dimly recognized as a gun.

Robinson was lying eagle-spread on the ground, his breath making rasping noises as it passed through his chest, which burned with three red spots that were spreading over the clean whiteness of his shirt. His fedora had fallen from his head, showing that his silvery hair was actually quite thick. Jezzie is struck by how young he actually is. He couldn't be any older than forty-five.

His lips are moving, but no sound comes.

Jezzie finds his hand and holds it. It is so futile of a gesture, so utterly useless, that it strikes her right to the heart.

"Robinson?" she asked in a small voice.

His gray eyes swivel over to her, and a small smile is on his mouth. Jezzie can barely see it through the haze settling in around her eyes, looking and feeling like tears that refuse to stop.

Over what she recognizes as the sound of her sobbing, Herbert's feet walk away, back to where he had come. His work was done, destroying the computer with all of his precious plans and designs. Now, no one by Jezzie and Robinson knew the truth…

Robinson coughed, and Jezzie saw the red stain of blood in his mouth. "Jay…" he said in a small voice, not by choice but by necessity. "You have to stop them."

Jezzie nodded her head over and over, feeling like a fool for how she can't seem to control the twisting of her heart. She doesn't bother asking Robinson for his phone or any other way of contacting someone who can bring him help. From down here, there could be no good signals, and by the time they were found, he would already be gone.

By now there was barely any white left in his shirt.

He was struggling to speak, again, blood now coating his lips. He was slowly falling apart in Jezzie's arms, losing color and breath. "Jay, please…" he takes in a great big breath to carry out his full, unbroken plea, "Tell my wife she always came first. Tell Mitzi I love her…"

"I will, I will, oh, _Mod_, Robinson…"

…

"Robinson?"

…

"Robinson!"

…

"_Robinson!_"

…

"… I'm so sorry…"

Jezzie lays his head down onto the cold stone and is utterly, completely alone.

* * *

It is now 6:01.

Jezzie looks at the carnage around her, body, computer and phone. This was too much. This was beyond what she thought was in store for her when she accepted the mission from G.

She had to make it right.

She stood and tried to locate the memory storage component from her phone, and tucked it away in hope that it would still be intact enough to keep some information. She looked longingly at Robinson's body and banished all dreams of taking it with her out of her head, and knew that he would understand her choice.

And yet she couldn't leave him all behind. She needed something to remind herself why she was fighting, what was being risked every second that Herbert went free.

She picked up his fedora from the ground and placed it on her head, letting it sink into the perfect place above her eyebrows. It felt like she had always been meant to wear it; it felt almost natural, like she could easily forget that it was there.

With this final piece falling into place, she felt strong enough to face the outside sunlight and air, turning her face into the direction that would lead her to the cornfields outside of the mine shack.

There wasn't anyone guarding the transmitter, strangely enough, and all it took was a good kick to disarm and disable it. She left it in a slightly smoking heap and headed towards where she hoped the HQ still was.

* * *

Everything was pain, for one fraction of a moment.

Since he had turned his head, it wasn't full on in his face, and he was able to clearly see the way the air rippled for a fraction of s second before revealing a small blonde girl in a purple outfit, standing as calm as you please.

She took his hand, and all the pain was gone.

His teeth were vibrating, just as they had earlier when Jezzie had sent the pinch of transportation into his hand, and so he accurately deduced what had happened.

The strange young girl had transported him out, just in time, depositing both of them outside the Sport Shop, the perfect front row seats for the perfect matchstick bonfire.

She didn't get them quite so far away, however, that they were safe from the debris. Flaming bits of wood smolder around them, singing hair and clothes, and the boom is deafening.

Justin closes his eyes and feels the heat of the fire bake his skin like a long-lost friend. Burning inside, somewhere, are the remains of his PSA issue sunglasses.

He feels as though a part of him is burning with them.

* * *

Rookie followed along behind G worriedly, always checking over his shoulder to make sure that Herbert or Memory wasn't following evilly behind, laughing manically.

He had found G and the Director quickly enough, once inside the Night Club, and managed to blurt out a nearly cohesive amalgam of events up to that point, glossing over the part where he puked up his sleeping pill in the caverns, and awkwardly mentioning that Jetpack Guy and Jezzie had managed to "hide" from Memory when in the Pizza Parlor, but not going into detail.

Once he got to the part about Jetpack Guy going to diffuse the bomb, G's face drained of color. He jumped up, out of his barstool, and stormed through the crowd of PSA agents without so much as an excuse-me. It was a G that Rookie had never seen, and he followed along, only barely recognizing that the Director slinked off into the back rooms, probably to leave. Well, Rookie didn't care what the Director did. In his mind, everything was the Director's fault for showing up in the first place.

And so he shoved the thoughts of the Director out of his mind and ran to keep up with the quickly fleeing G.

He was nearly by his side when he heard the explosion.

He screams out Jetpack's name before he knows what he's doing, and suddenly he isn't behind G anymore. He is in front of him, running as fast as he can, with G struggling to keep pace, but similarly driven.

Once up at the Ski Village, the first thing they see is Jetpack.

Jezzie is in his arms.

* * *

The first thing she notices is the emptiness.

Where the Sports Shop had once stood, hiding the PSA HQ from prying eyes, there is only sky and a pile of smoking wood, bricks, and burning electrical equipment. She must have been too far away to hear the initial explosion.

She breaks into a run; his name is on her lips to scream, when she heaves a sigh of relief, seeing him sitting, completely intact on the ground, outside of the wreckage. His head is in his hands, however, and a strange little blonde woman in a purple outfit is standing over him, looking like she was trying to comfort him. She looks up and a spots Jezzie, and quickly taps Justin's arm, pointing his questioning look across the Ski Town square.

He stands quickly, inhaling sharply at the sight of her, wearing Robinson's fedora, of all things.

Time stretches out between them as they wait and observe, trying to find what they should do.

Then, the space between them breaks.

They rush at each other and embrace, holding each other close in an attempt to feel whether they are alright. Justin's heart is beating through his chest, and she can feel it pounding into her ribcage as she loops her arms around his neck and presses her face into it, not caring how the splinters caught in his shirt prick at her skin or the rough feeling of dried blood against her forehead.

They were safe, and that was all that mattered, for a moment. They were quiet; the only sounds the crackling of burning wood and their heavy, ragged breathing. They had had their fair share—more than their fair share—of near-death scrapes, but never had it seemed so close at hand as when they were apart. And being close was the only remedy for the fear they were feeling,

And so they stood together, arms holding each other tight, for one incredibly calming moment.

And then comes the fresh tears from Jezzie as she explains Robinson and the three bullets that were now in his lifeless chest, her vice cracking and breaking, and Justin's multiple cuts are opened fresh from how he moved into her embrace, and G and Rookie are running up the hill, yelling their names and gasping at the destruction.

As the approach, Jezzie and Justin part, regretting it the minute they separate but making no move towards each other.

G sees Dot, still standing awkwardly to one side, phone in hand, and immediately beelines towards her, looking painfully around at the scattered remains of his inventions and wares. "So…" he said, and adjusted his glasses. "Time to join up, right?"

She nods happily and quickly, and hands over her phone for him to tap codes and numbers into, alerting the entire remaining PSA that the HQ had been destroyed and they were all to be transferred over onto their sister corporation, the EPF.

"The EPF?" Jezzie asked in confusion, walking over with Justin at her side. They barely notice that they are holding hands, still silently assuring themselves that the other is still okay. "What's the EPF?"

G held up the young blonde girl's high-tech phone, which had a symbol different from the PSA's as a background. "The EPF is the underground, elite force for the PSA. They are only known to our administrators, or those who are already a part of it, such as myself."

From next to Jezzie, Justin muttered something that sounded like, "Great, more secrets."

"And me." Everyone looked in surprise at Rookie, who sheepishly pulled out his own high-tech phone. "Private Second Class Tyler Rochefield, Third Agent Brigade. Call sign Rookie," he listed off, and, like a voice code, it unlocked the image of a badge on his phone, which listed out his rank and clearance level, which was close to almost nothing.

Jezzie and Justin each exchanged surprised looks, and, heavily blushing, finally realized that they had been holding hands. They released each other quickly.

"Well," G continued, noting their separation, "I'm going to see if there's anything worth scavenging. You two need to rest, but stay on scene. I'll get you two into a briefing room as soon as we can find what's left of it." They both decided not to wonder about whether he was serious. He walked off across the ruins, searching and occasionally picking up a piece of twisted metal. Dot started chatting her the super-speedy way about EPF regulations to Rookie, who looked like all he wanted was a soft bed and a good night's sleep.

Justin stood off to one side, looking at it all. Jezzie is struck suddenly with her initial impression of him as a loner, someone who enjoyed his own company. Now, seeing him stand aside, she knows better. He is not content. He is lonely, and she can't help by feel that she needs to stands by him. She quickly joined him, a question festering in her mind.

"What happened with you and Memory?" She asked gently, hoping that it was not too soon to ask. "Did he stop you from diffusing the bomb?"

"…I'm not joining."

Jezzie's eyebrows came together beneath the shade of Robinson's fedora. That wasn't the answer that she had asked for, or expected. "What?" she asked.

"I'm not joining the EPF," Justin said. "I need some space from everything right now." His voice betrays how long he had thought and debated about this, and how he hoped, in some twisted, impossible way, for Jezzie's approval.

Jezzie tried to smile up at his battered and beaten face, holding onto the last few remnants of hope that she can find. "It's okay, you don't have to join. I'll still see you around, though, right?" she asked.

He seemed to think it over, looking into her eyes and then over her head, at the chaos that the explosion had left behind. A bright smile lit up his face, perhaps the happiest expression she had ever seen there.

His bright green eyes returned to hers.

"No," he said, placing his lips against her forehead for the briefest of touches before backing away, hands in his pockets. He chuckles wryly. "You won't."

He spins on his heels and walks down the trail in the snow, stretching out his arms to take in the warm sunlight. Jezzie likewise turns to survey the destruction, making plans and plotting tactics that would allow the EPF to keep the island safe against Memory and his army of brainwashed agents, his 'Moderators'.

The distance between them grows as they move farther apart, but something keeps between them, a strange, tangible piece of time that will always be there, connecting them across any space. She feels it, he feels it. They do not deny it.

However, neither looks back to acknowledge it, too busy looking for the bright future ahead.

* * *

The End.

* * *

**And, so, I open the way for a possible sequel.**

**Thank you all for taking this journey with me.**

**I feel like I need to explain, though, that when Justin says "You won't," he means that, no, Jezzie will not see him. He will avoid her like the plague. Because if he sees her again... he knows that he would want to join the EPF, to be with her. And, he needs to find himself first. Soul-searching, if you will.**

**Yours Truly,**

**Illyria Lives**


End file.
